


Those who Survived

by Kadira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 16:41:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadira/pseuds/Kadira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost five years after Harry's graduation and his ultimate battle with Voldemort his past catches up with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Along the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> * again: very old fic, so it is certainly not perfect, but it was my very first Harry Potter fic (back then, when the fandom was just starting), so I'm still very fond of it.  
> * goes very early AU, since only two books were released at the time I wrote this

The young man at the window jumped at the sharp knock on his door. Before he could say anything, the door had already opened and an overloaded mail cart, followed by a young man, had entered his office.

"Seems you're very much in demand at the moment," the boy (what was his name again? He couldn't remember) greeted him with a friendly smile.

"Am I? Well, just put it over there," he said, pointing to his simple steel desk.

"All right, Mister. I'm sure I'll see you again very soon," the boy answered with a grin after he'd put a bunch of papers and letters on the table and got ready to take his leave.

"Thank you," he stated, ignoring the boy's statement completely. He wouldn't have known what to say anyway. Smalltalk seemed to be something he never would get used to. Like a lot of other things ... Absent-mindedly, he lifted a hand to push away the stray lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes.

With a sigh, he left his place at the window and went to his table where he sat down and went trough his mail; an announcement for the fourth union gathering of which he wasn't even a member; a late notice about the order of the coming Christmas celebration including the urgent request to respond immediately on whether he was to take part - both letters wandered into the garbage; three reminders for various meetings during the following days, which he had been requested to take part in; one memo from his superior, reminding him that he had only one week left before the new project's deadline. One week and not only had he not started, but worse, didn't even have any ideas. Harry felt a headache coming up. But was there something more boring than to develop a publicity campaign for soap? Not that there weren't enough already on the market. And mind you, not for the television audience, but for a boring newspaper! What did they expect of him - a wonder?

Frustrated, he shoved the letter aside, well knowing that it was no one else's fault but his own. After all he had got the assignment four weeks ago. It was just that he had had enough other things to think about. Things which he had managed to repress for the last four, no, almost five years. Not completely. That would have been too much to hope for. But at least for most of the time.

Until three weeks ago. Until the past - his past - had decided that his break had lasted long enough and had returned to haunt him - in form of owls with notes tied to their legs. Not only once, but every day anew. Something that had reminded him strongly of the days before his eleventh birthday before his life had changed so entirely. There was only a slight difference: then he would have done almost anything to get his hands on the mysterious letters. Not so this time. Unfortunately, the owls of the past few days showed the same insistence as the ones in the past and wouldn't take their leave until they had successfully delivered their charge. So he'd started to accept the letters only to get rid of them as soon as he had them in his hands. Unread, of course. Harry simple couldn't bring himself to open them. He couldn't have done so, if his life would have depended on it. To be confronted with something that, in the not so far past, had been his life, was almost more than he could bear. No, it was too much to ask of him. Whatever it was, whoever wanted to reach him for whatever reason, had to do without him.

Involuntary, his right hand wandered to the scar on his forehead, a sign that had always separated him from others - in this and the ... other world. A scar that had caused him so much horror. From when he was a baby until the very end when he had fought his last and ultimate battle. A battle that had taken everything from him until he had had nothing left to give. His left hand clenched into a fist as the memories from which he had tried to escape found their way into his consciousness. Unmerciful, they tore down the barriers he had erected to prevent the pain to reach the surface. He could feel how the memories started to consume him, how they threatened his sanity. Slowly, painfully, they took possession over him.

"Mister Potter?" Harry almost jumped from his seat by the voice. Confused, for a moment not sure where he was, he looked around. The source of the voice was a tall elderly brown haired woman who stood in the door frame and observed him with a worried look. "Mister Potter, are you all right?"

"What?" He shook his head to clear his mind from some very disturbing images.

"You look ... not so well. Is there something I can do for you?"

"No, thank you Riona, I'm fine. Just thinking about our soaps." The gaze with which she observed him made it clear that she didn't believe him.

"Well, if you say so, sir. But you look tired. You're working too hard. You should try to go home early once in a while and catch some sleep."

Sleep! He almost laughed out loud at the suggestion. It was the last thing on earth he wanted or needed; at least as long as falling asleep meant being helpless in the face of his very own horror, unable to escape. He forced himself to smile. "I'll do so. As soon as I've finished the project," he told her with a - so he hoped at least - reassuring smile.

She nodded doubtfully. "OK. I'll be on my way if you don't need me anymore ..."

"Have a good night, Riona. I'll see you in the morning."

"You too, Mister Potter." And with this she turned around and left with a muttered 'letting them work until they are burned out and then they wonder that ...'

He didn't listen anymore for his eyes had spotted a light blue envelope. Hesitantly, he unclenched his fist and reached for it. He didn't need to read the return address to know who it was from. The narrow handwriting told him everything. Hermione. The only survivor of his close friends. His throat tightened at the thought. Harry turned the envelope over in his hand, not sure what to do with it. Curiosity battled against all his other emotions, but before he could made up his mind, a loud curse from outside his office distracted him. Bewildered, he opened the door and was almost run - no more rightly flown over by a huge owl that, with a harsh hissing scream, made its displeasure known by the chase that one of the security men put up.

"I'm sorry, sir. I couldn't catch it," declared the man, quite breathlessly when he stopped in front of Harry. "Must have been escaped from the zoo or something. I've never seen such a huge beast before." The animal in question had settled down onto the desk and was beating with its wings as if to dare the security man to come any closer. It was not only huge, but also very beautiful. The wings were covered in dark, almost black feathers, while the head and the front were as white as snow. The eyes were circled with black rings that faded into white. "Just give me a moment and I'll get rid of it, sir."

"That won't be necessary. I'll do it myself."

"But --," the man tried to object with what little breath he had regained.

"I'll deal with it," Harry repeated, his voice having gone just a little bit colder.

"With all due respect, sir, but it could be dangerous or ill. You haven't seen it upstairs. It flew against the windows until I opened the door and when it was in and I tried to catch it, it snapped at me!" he explained, waving the thumb of his right hand wildly around to emphasise his point.

"Well, it doesn't seem very dangerous now."

"It is obsessed! It flew right up here as if it knew where it wanted to go. That's not normal. We should call someone who knows how to deal with them and who --"

"That is not necessary. I know what to do," Harry interrupted the flood of words.

" -- can help. What did you say? How do you know what to do?"

"Let's just say that I worked with them for a while," he said, feeling his already thin patience slipping away fast. "And now, if you don't mind. I've work to do and an owl to take care off."

Something in his voice must have done the wonder for the nervous security man stared at him in surprised silence before he found his voice again. "Fine, but you're aware that this is no zoo or refuge for confused or deranged animals, do you? And of course, I'll have to mention this incident in my report."

"Do what you have to do and I'll do the same. So if you'll excuse us now." Harry didn't wait for an answer, but closed the door right in front of the other man's face. He waited until he heard retreating steps before he turned his attention to the uninvited guest on his desk. The owl, obviously pleased that it had finally reached its destination, flew off the table and landed on his shoulder, nibbling his ear. An action that brought back memories of a happier time. "So, what do you have for me?" he asked in a soft voice. The owl jumped from his shoulder and back onto the table. He could see that a roll was tied to its leg. Again. "You don't think you could simply take it back to the sender?" As an answer the owl just beat his wings. "All right," he answered with a resigned sigh, slowly approaching the table. "I'll get it and then you can go."

Carefully, he undid the knot and took the letter. He stared at the parchment in his hand for a moment, before watching it slip from between his fingers. The lump in his throat returned as he opened the window. "Here you go." His voice was cracking slightly as he beckoned for the owl to take her leave. "No need to scare the poor guy downstairs even more than you already have," he said. The animal made no move. "What is it? Don't feel like going so soon after you've just arrived? But you have to, I'm afraid. See, the guy doesn't like you being here. And to be honest, neither do I." The owl crooked its head, as if listening carefully to every word he said. A smile flitted involuntarily across his lips as he hesitantly reached out to caress the soft feathers. How long had it been? It felt like forever. A strong longing overcame him for a life that had been taken from him.

_A life you rejected!_

True, but how, after all that had happened, could I have gone on? After all that I had seen? There had been no other way.

There is always a way. You always have a choice. You could have either given up or learn from the problems, yet you chose the easiest way out. Running away.

He jerked his head to end this rather disturbing inner dialogue. When had he started having discussions with himself? Maybe Riona was right. He was in serious need of some rest if not sleep. "All right my dear. I've to go home now and you should return to wherever you came from," he told the owl. The animal's reaction remained the same as before - nothing but the intense look which slowly became a bit unnerving.

"You know what? I'll leave the window open so that you can take your leave whenever you like." He pulled on his jacket, absently snatching the blue envelope before heading to the door. "Just make sure that you're invisible when our friend returns." And with these final words he slipped out of the room.

Glad that the security man was in the middle of his rounds, which spared him more odd looks and uncomfortable questions, he headed for the exit and into the night. With uncertain steps he passed the road crossing and headed through the small, empty streets towards his own flat. He had just reached his door when he suddenly heard the rustling of wings above him, with a rather gloomy feeling he turned around. Not far away from him, Harry could make out his nightly, rather unwelcome, visitor. He stopped in his motion. Was the owl following him? It couldn't be, could it? It could. In one swift motion the dark shadow landed on his shoulder. "What do you want? You've done your job. Now go!" He reached up with his hand to encourage the animal to leave him alone. But the only thing he managed to get hold on was a paper, which the owl had let fall into his hand. Not just one paper, but the letter he had deliberately forgotten on his desk. With a groan he looked up; the air above him was empty. There was no sign of the quite irritating courier. With a small shake of his head he retrieved his keys and let himself in.

Pleasant warmth engulfed him as soon as he entered his small flat. But even after going into the living room, falling onto the couch and closing his eyes, peace of mind wouldn't come and so after a moment he sat up again. His eyes wandered around the room as if searching for something and came to rest on the table - and the parchment.

He reached out tentatively, running a finger lightly over its surface before taking it cautiously into his hand, as if almost afraid that it would explode if handled too rough. He turned it over and over while his emotions fought within him. Could he take the risk? Just once? Certainly a piece of paper couldn't do any harm, could it? It couldn't make his life more of a hell than it already was. And with this he took one deep breath and unrolled the note.

***

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

To all former Hogwarts graduates:

hereby we inform you to our joy, that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has finally reopened its doors. To welcome this first new step in an important era of peace, we invite you to a celebration on 24th December which will take place in the Great Hall.

If you do not send us a refusal until 16th December (which we will not hope for) we look forward to see you.

Since the Hogwarts Express hasn't been put back into service, the Ministry has kindly placed cars at our disposal which will pick up everybody who has no other means of coming here.

Please send your owl no later then 18th December if you want to make use of this offer.

***

Harry stared blankly at the letter. The words sunk in slowly and he needed even longer to digest their real meaning. After more than four years, Hogwarts would open up again. He couldn't believe it. The last time he had seen the school, it had been nothing more but a ruin. A mass grave for those not lucky enough to escape in time. Even after all these years he still could hear the cries as if it had taken place just yesterday. As soon as he dared to close his eyes, he could hear the insane laughter of Voldemort and his supporters as they brought down the last stronghold against their terror-regime.

Unimaginable pain took hold of Harry, as he recalled the last events that, in the end, had been the downfall of the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters.

_He is dead._

Who?

Dumbledore.

Mournful whispers went through the school when the latest news reached their ears.  
It was too much. Couldn't endure the stress anymore. Has gone after You-Know-Who himself and failed. A spy here in our school has killed him?

The different rumours had been almost as bad as the knowledge that the only person that had kept Voldemort away from Hogwarts, maybe the only one who could have stopped him, had gone from them.

_It is over. There is nothing more we can do. It's hopeless._

Only a few hours later a mass-exodus had begun. Most students had left Hogwarts immediately. It was their luck. For not even twelve hours later, Voldemort had taken care that Hogwarts would be nothing more but a fading memory.

_'Where is Hermione, Ron?_  
'  
'Outside, I think. Said she wanted to say good-bye to Hagrid.'

'I'll go and look for her. Come with me?'

'Go already. I'll join you as soon as my parents are here to pick us up. Should be any moment now.'

And Harry had gone, had left his best friend behind. Something he'd never been able to forgive himself.

_He hadn't even reached Hagrid's small and snowed-in wooden hut when a terrible noise seemed to fill the air. Loud laughter, which seemed to come from everywhere at once, followed by lightening and thunder. While he was still trying to make out the source of the laughter, Hermione appeared beside him, pointing anxiously towards the castle. Students were running away in blind panic while the teacher tried to get some kind of order into the chaos so that they could lead them away. The reason for this Harry could see only seconds later when the impossible happened. With a sound that heralded its doom, Hogwards folded into itself; like an outsized house of cards. For a short moment there was nothing to hear. It was as if Harry had stepped into a vacuum. No birds, no voices, nothing. And then it started._

Cries of anguish from those who hadn't died immediately.

Cries of shock from those who had witnessed the terrible events.

Cries of rage by the last step Voldemort had taken.

He heard Hermione crying beside him, but found himself unable to comfort her, frozen in the horror that faced them. It was Hagrid's enraged cry of sorrow that freed him of the state he was in. As though in a trance, he put one foot in front of the other, slowly approaching the ruins that only minutes ago had been his home. Through a veil he heard a vaguely familiar voice shouting his name. He didn't care who it was or what the voice wanted. His pace became faster and faster until he was running.

Finally he came to a halt in front of the ruins that had been Hogwarts.

Every limb in his body went numb from what he saw. Still he went further through the ruins, not listening anymore to the cries around him. He searched for something. For someone. In vein. No sign of Ron, nor of any of his other friends who hadn't taken their leave. Vaguely, he realised that there was a hand on his arm who tried to lead him away but his strength had left him and he fell down on his knees. His chest felt tight, as though it would explode any moment. Tears were streaming silently down his face, sobs caught soundless against his throat ...

Harry trembled from head to foot by the unimaginable pain that accompanied those memories. Yet, although his eyes burned, he couldn't cry. He had refused to allow himself any more tears since that fateful afternoon that had broken his world apart. When he'd lost almost everything that had been his life. During those few moments Voldemort had finally achieved what he had tried for so long; he had destroyed his life and broken him. And nothing could bring back to him what Voldemort had taken away. Not even their final victory a few months later after a long and exhausting last confrontation between Harry and the Dark Lord which he had barely survived. It was as if something within him had died the same day that so many of his friends had found death.

The rest of the year was only a hazy memory. He had no idea of what had happened afterwards. Only that they'd ended up in Durmstrang where they were to spent the remaining time of the year. It was also the school where the seventh years, his class, had made their final exams, despite all what had happened. To this time Harry had thought it quite pointless yet it was maybe in their teachers unanimous opinion that it would be for the best if life would go on as normally as possible. Was it? Harry didn't know. But then again, he didn't even know how he'd not only made it through the exams, but passed them as well. Not that it would have mattered anyway. Only a few days after the end of his final year he'd found himself packing, determined in his decision to leave everything behind him. And nobody could change his opinion.

_'Harry, don't go. I need you.'_

'Harry, don't blame yourself for something that was no ones fault but Voldemort's.'

'Now that this is over we need you more than ever, Harry. Help us to rebuild what has been destroyed.'

'Oh, the great Potter will run away? Too cowardly to face what is to come?'

He hadn't bothered to explain his reasons. Couldn't for fear that the pain would return then. He hadn't even said his good-byes to anyone, but had silently vanished into the shadows. He couldn't bear the thought of more, certainly well meant but utterly useless advises, gazes of pity or murmured 'he is the one who did it, this time for good'.

All that he wished for was oblivion; to not be forced to confront again and again with what had taken place, but simply to forget everything about the dark side, Hogwarts, Death Eaters, Voldemort, the many useless deaths which had been the price for a shallow victory, Ron and especially himself and the special status that had been forced upon himself as a baby, and for which he'd paid for dearly. So he had left. It had been his desperate attempt to escape his past for good by trying to live a normal life, far away from everything that could be a painful reminder.

"It had worked!" he told himself stubbornly before he stood up with shaking knees and walked towards the only window in the room. The sky was already lightening with the impending dawn of the new day. Maybe he should call in sick for today ... His gaze drifted around his surroundings, over grey houses, pathetic courtyards and the few trees which he could see out of the corner. All in all a very depressing view which fit his mood just perfectly. Disgusted, he turned around and made his way into the tiny kitchen to make some tea. "It did work!" he repeated as if the words would make themselves true if he repeated them to himself often enough - even when it was in a breaking voice.

When he returned with a mug of steaming tea, his eyes fell onto the innocent looking parchment that still lay where he had put it last. Anger welled up within him and he grabbed the letter to reread it. How dare they! Just when he was finally getting a grip on his life, when he had almost managed to forget completely, they had to remind him of everything. Yet he couldn't bring himself to simple throw it away like the others. Instead of doing so, he smoothed the letter and tried put it back onto the table when his gaze suddenly fell onto a piece of paper stuck to the original letter which he, quite obviously, hadn't noticed before. The tea in one hand, slowly sipping, he read the brief note - and choked.

Thunderstruck, he re-read the small notice, almost sure that he'd understood it wrong. He hadn't. The meaning didn't change:

**

_Since it turned out to be a real challenge to get in touch with the famous Potter, I'm almost sure that this letter won't reach you in time for you to either refuse or to contact the Ministry. So you should be aware that Professor Hermione Granger took the liberty of setting you onto the list for a drive with one of the Ministry cars. You will be fetched 23th December 6. am._

Severus Snape  
Headmater of Hogwarts

**

Harry was still choking when he finished rereading the letter.

To say that he was bewildered would have been an understatement. It was more a special kind of shock. Something like the last drop to make a miserable night even worse. Professor Hermione Granger didn't surprise him very much. After all it had been something she'd wished to do for their last three years in school. It was more the Headmaster Severus Snape part that worried him. Certainly the Ministry couldn't seriously have appointed him to this job. Not a teacher like him who, to top all his negative personal traits (and Snape had a lot of them, Harry recalled only too vividly), was also a former Death Eater.

_Yes, but one with whom you have fought back to back with in the past, one whom Dumbledore trusted without reservations and who had taken on the job of rescuing you whenever it was necessary_ , a low voice told him.

Harry shook his head to dismiss this unwelcome voice - even when it was right. But it was far easier to think about Snape only in combination with the hatred he had shown Harry and all that had accompanied this particular, in parts mutual, sentiment. That they had fought on the same side didn't make up for seven years of emotional abuse. Something that obviously hadn't stopped when he'd left the Wizard world. *Famous Potter*. Harry suppressed a sudden wave of anger. Not because he felt offended, he told himself, but far more because of the stupidity the Ministry had shown by the selection of Dumbledore's successor. Surely there had been other, more fitting candidates for this position. Snape couldn't have been the only one. But then again, such a decision shouldn't really surprise him. After all it had been the same ministry that had turned so long a blind eye on Voldemort's return until it was too late. So why should that have changed now? But maybe it was just another attempt by Snape to make him feel uncomfortable. With the Potions Master you could never be sure.

Angry with himself, that he even allowed Snape so much as an afterthought, he stood up to fetch the 'normal' letter he'd received today. Might as well get over with everything, he thought grimly as he angled for his jacket.

Carelessly, he tore open the blue envelope and took out the letter. The first one was another invitation to the reopening of the school, the second paper, much thinner, was filled with Hermione's small and narrow handwriting. A so familiar image, that Harry had to close his eyes for a moment to regain control over his emotions.

**

_Dear Harry,_

I so hope that at least this letter will reach you. After Snape had expressed his displeasure that you hadn't reacted to any of our notes, and after Mrs. Weasley had told me the same, I thought that maybe this way to get in contact with you might be for the best. Luckily, the Ministry keeps notes about the whereabouts of every wizard and witch, so it wasn't too difficult to find out where you live.

So much has changed since we talked last. After everything slowly returned to normal after Voldemort's defeat, after everything had settled down, I've tried to contact you in our way. Sadly, until only a few weeks before, nobody knew were you were and not even our best owls could find a trace of you. I don't even know if you got our last letter, that is the reason I'm using the good old Muggle post now, something I haven't done in a long time.

There is so much I need to tell you, yet not only is a letter maybe not the right way (I was never very good at writing down what I feel as you may recall) but I also don't know where to start. Maybe first with the official part.

Since I'm not sure if Incordia (Severus's owl) --

The easiness with which Hermione was using the first name of the teacher they once hated most. It simple sounded wrong, but then again, times were changing. His closest friend was now said teacher's colleague and no longer a mere student or maybe better: fair game to be jumped at whenever Snape needed someone to let out his frustration on. But still ...

_\-- managed to deliver her note (though I'd be surprised if she hadn't after all that Severus had told her), please take a look at the Hogwarts letter which I sent within my own. The unimaginable happened, Hogwarts has been rebuilt and will again function as a wizard school! Isn't that simply wonderful, Harry? For the past four years they've been busy reconstructing the - our - school. And it looks just the same. Of course they hope to drive away the last shadow of Voldemort's regime with this action, to raise Hogwarts to its old fame and glory. Which better way could they have chosen? Only so the memories of all those who have sacrificed themselves will never fade. But I've to say, that in the beginning it took some time to get used to walk through the old corridors knowing that it never would be the same. Memories - good and bad ones - lurk everywhere. But this is not necessarily a bad thing. Sad at times, but not bad. I thing we all will settle in eventually and learn to live with what has happened ..._

The Hogwarts letter is an invitation for a celebration for both - the reopening and in memory. Since we are aware to the fact that you simply can't get the letter in time to clarify everything, I talked with the Ministry and made an appointment for you to be fetched. They will come and take you on the 23rd of December around six a.m. I so look forward to seeing you again and not only me, but all of the 'old' crew (you know, the Weasleys, Hagrid, Justin, Neville...

Harry had to swallow hard this time to get rid of the lump in his throat by the list of all the familiar names. He even took a sip of his, in the meanwhile cold tea to clear his throat. It didn't help much.

_And I think even Snape looks forward to see you again. Of course, he would never say, but he seemed genuinely worried when we didn't hear back from you (that was the reason that he didn't trust the school owls this time but sent Incordia, I think)._

Harry snorted. Snape worried about him - right! The only thing Snape was maybe worried about was that he wouldn't find somebody else to torment. No more, no less.

_But maybe there are a few things I should tell you, so you won't be too shocked when you arrive here. Just a few months ago I got offered McGonagall's old position. A great honour, which I couldn't turn down. So, from the next year on I'll teach Transfiguration and I can just hope to be worthy of McGonagall's heritage._

There was no doubt in Harry's mind that she would. Hermione always had been the best in Transfiguration.

_Hagrid will be again the teacher for Care of Magical Creatures, something that shouldn't be a real surprise. Professor Flitwick, Sprout and (something we're not really happy about) Professor Trelawney will return to their old jobs. We're still waiting for the filling of the DADA teacher (there are a few rumours, but nothing is confirmed yet. Personally, I had hoped that Lupin would return, but I don't think that will happen), Arithmancy, Muggle Studies, Study of Ancient Runes, Astronomy (for that a Professor from Beauxbaton is in the talk, maybe even Madam Maxime? I wouldn't be surprised at all considering how close she and Hagrid got during the last years) , Flying and the History of Magic since Binns finally realised that he might not be the best choice for this position and resigned. Have you ever heard of a ghost resigning before? I think it must be a unique case in wizard history._

A grin spread over Harry's face. He could just imagine Hermione getting the news of Binns' resignation.. 'He resigned Headmaster? A ghost? I can't remember of ever having heard or read about such a thing before. But give me a moment, I'll go to the library and check this out.' leaving a bewildered Snape behind.

_Anyway, Ginny Weasley (she graduated last year) is the confirmed new Potions Master with the full support from Snape. She must be the only Weasley who has managed to hold up to his standards. You can imagine how proud her family is._

The most drastic change may be our new headmaster. But I'm almost sure, that you've heard about it already. The Ministry of Magic (whose new president after Fudge's misjudgement in the Voldemort situation is now Arthur Weasley) has chosen Snape for this position. Not only was he one of Dumbledore's closest confidantes but also of invaluable help during our last battle. I believe that they think, that someone like Snape can very well be trusted enough to take this position and to make the best out of it. Well, what can I say. He is no Dumbledore, but he is trying his best.

The last years have changed us all and maybe we all should give each other another chance. I mean, we all went so far (to hell and back) and we all worked together, so why should this change now, why not try to keep this up? Certainly it cannot do any harm.

Harry got the strong impression that she wasn't only defending Snape with what she was saying. But this was Hermione. Always trying to make the best of every situation. A slight smile spread over his lips. A smile that not even the confirmation of Snape's new status could wipe away. After all, it was not his concern anymore. He was no longer part of Hogwarts or the wizard community. Should others try to deal with what was to come.

Yet Harry couldn't completely ignore the loss that he felt by these thoughts.

_The new Heads of the houses still have to be chosen. Professor Sprout and Flitwick of course will stay with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws but otherwise nothing is certain yet. The ghosts (yes, including Peeves) have already returned to Hogwarts. Flinch and Mrs. Norris will do so during the next days._

Oh Harry, there is so much more to tell you and so many things I want to ask you. You can't imagine how I've missed our discussions, our talks, yes, even our fights after you left us. It is not that I can't understand your decision, but somehow I never thought that you would vanish so completely without letting us hear from you. I always expected to open my door one day and to see you standing in the door frame ready for new adventures or simply to say hello. Your sudden disappearance took us all by surprise. Most people simple couldn't understand that you - after our victory! - chose the Muggle world before theirs.

But maybe we all needed some time off. The past has taken its toll on all of us, you certainly the most. Still, I hope to see you at our small celebration. You know, despite all the people I got to know during the last years, I've found nothing that could be compared to what you, Ron and I once shared. And I hope that at least the both of us can go on one day.

It would be nice if you could send me a short note, to let me know that my letter has arrived and to tell me how you're doing.

Otherwise I *really* hope to see you here in Hogwarts.

Love,  
Hermione

**

Long after he'd finished the letter, Harry remained on the floor, observing the first rays of sunshine creeping through the window. Yet his mind was somewhere else; years in the past when everything had been as it was supposed to be. Hermione, Ron and him the - despite occasional fights - inseparable trio. Friends who were sticking together through thick and thin. Until ... Harry swallowed hard. No, he didn't want to think about it. Not again.

_"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."_

The voice sounded from far away as he heard one of the first and most important lessons the former headmaster of Hogwarts had taught him. And while the situation was completely different then, it fitted now as well. Had he forgotten to live? Hadn't he just chosen a different path? Only, where had it really brought him? Was he happy in the life he had chosen in the desperate attempt to forget?

Harry's mind was in turmoil as he finally stood up. Automatically, his feet lead him to the telephone which stood on the small side table on the opposite wall. With trembling fingers he dialed his work number. "Riona? I'm taking the day off. No, that won't be ..." His gaze fell on the small wand calendar in front of him. It was the 20th December. "No, I'm fine, nothing to worry about. I feel much better already," he said and realised with mild surprise that it was true. "And tell them that I won't come next week either. No, better make it two weeks. I'm taking my vacation." He didn't wait for an answer but ended the conversation with a 'Thank you and I'll see you then'.

**\--**


	2. Confronting the Demons

"Here we are, Mr. Potter. And you're sure you want to walk from here on? I could take you to the castle. It is my job, you know."  
  
"Thank you, but no," Harry told the Ministry witch in the green velvet robe for the third time.  
  
"Well, alright," she stated. Her face suggested that she would have preferred to deliver Harry right to the main entrance instead of somewhere between the gates and the Forbidden Forest . "It'll be a great and important day for all of us," she stated with a voice that seemed suddenly very far away. Then she returned her attention to Harry. "Well then, I have to fetch a few more guests to bring here, so I better go. I hope you'll enjoy the celebration!"  
  
"I'm sure about that," Harry said with a forced smile to hide his nervousness. It has reached an alarming level during the last few hours. "And thank you."  
  
"Oh, it was my pleasure. It is not every day that I've the honour to drive a true legend." It was only good that she was already busy climbing back into the car so that she couldn't see Harry's enervated grimace. Why couldn't people just stop this? He had no desire to spend his entire life being known and cheered for as the 'Famous Harry Potter' or the 'Boy who lived'.  
  
Motionless, he watched the witch winking a last time before the car took off into the air and became invisible. Only when he could be sure that he was really alone did he move his head and look around. The snow which covered everything conveyed the impression that he had left the real world and stepped into a kind of fairyland. But then again, the thought wasn't too wrong. He just wondered, what Muggles would see when they would walk up here now. A snowed-in ruin in the middle of a forest? Could they feel the special peace and the magic that surrounded this place?  
  
Harry pulled his cloak tighter around his body when a cold wind came up and tore at his clothes. Maybe he shouldn't have asked the witch to stop here instead of flying him directly to the main entrance. But no, he wanted some time alone to prepare himself for what was to come and the best way to get this was to walk the last bit. He eyed the gates and the stone columns he could see in the distance. They looked exactly like four and a half years ago when the coaches had brought them here for their last year ...  
  
Harry tore his attention away from the gates, grabbed his small bag, turned around and froze. His eyes had fallen onto the castle, which, although still a bit remote, was a magnificent sight. Harry had forgotten how impressive Hogwarts always had been. Especially compared to the last time when he had seen it. It was hard to imagine, that, almost five years ago, all that had been left of the castle had been a pitiful ruin.  
  
The Hogwarts he saw now looked just the same like the one in which he had attended school. The many towers and turrets loomed proud into the sky, their snow covered tops gleaming in the sun. The thick walls, which surrounded the castle, gave it an aura of indestructibility. It was not more than an illusion as Harry knew only too well, but it was still impressive. From where he stood he could see the tallest tower, which had been used for the astronomy lessons.  _And for some other things_  , Harry remembered with a bitter smile the day when they had been there in the middle of the night to get rid of Hagrid's newest pet, Norbert.  
  
Not willing or ready to deal with another flood of memories, not even if they were some of the nicer ones, he grabbed his bag and took the drive leading up to the castle. The emotional turmoil he was in didn't lessen. On the contrary; with every step he approached Hogwarts, it became more difficult to focus on something that would allow him to calm down. How should he deal with all the people he once had called his friends? How should he approach Hermione and Hagrid? What about Snape? Would the former Potion Master start again where he had stopped after Voldemort's attack on Hogwarts, after their whole life had focused just on survival and to defeat the Dark Lord? Snape's brief note had indicated nothing else. And what about the Weasleys? Harry's stomach turned around by the thought of Mrs. Weasley who had been more of a mother to him than his Muggle relatives ever had been.  
  
Far too fast he'd reached the end of the street and had entered the grounds right in front of the castle. The great oak front doors were wide open and he could hear soft murmurs from the inside. These were the only sounds that broke through the silence which lay over the school. Not surprising, since there were no students yet and the great celebration would first start tomorrow when all guests had arrived.  
  
"Peeves!" Harry suddenly heard a loud cry from inside the castle, followed by the laughter of the poltergeist every student he ever knew had learned to loathe. The voice belonged to no one else but Filch, the caretaker.  _Everything back to normal, quite obviously_  , Harry thought before panic took over him. It had been a mistake to come here, he should never have read one of those letters and even less stepped into the car that brought him here. This was not his world anymore.   
  
For a short moment he was tempted to grab his bag and to flee before anybody saw him. And he would probably have followed this urge, if not for the thundering voice that suddenly sounded from somewhere behind him, "Fang, where are yeh? Come here." Harry spun around and approached the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid stood with his back to him and patted Fang, the black boarhound who had already been with Hagrid when Harry had attended the school, on the head. For a short moment Fang allowed the caress until his eyes fell onto Harry. With deep booming barks he left Hagrid's side and stormed towards him. "Fang! Have yeh gone --" Hagrid stopped in his sentence when he saw Harry. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again.  
  
Harry managed a confounded smile. "Hello Hagrid."  
  
"Harry!" was all Hagrid managed before he stood in front of Harry and pulled him in a hug that knocked the breath out of him.  
  


* * *

  
"Have you been up ter the school yet? Hermione can' wait to see you. I've talked ter just yesterday an she was worried that yeh didn' get the invitation and wouldn' come. Rubbish, I said ter her. Harry'll come. An' here yeh're." Hagrid grinned widely and stood up to prepare a plate of cakes.  
  
"Er - no, I haven't been there yet. I heard you when I stood in front of the door and came here first," Harry answered rather evasively.  
  
"But yeh should. Not that I'm not happy to see yeh, but ... Ah, here have some," he said putting the plate right in front of Harry. "Will be a great celebration tomorrow. One of the biggest Hogwarts has seen. Every student and their families have been invited. It'll be so wonderful."  
  
Harry just finished his third mug of tea and was trying to explain Hagrid what exactly he was doing in the Muggle world (Who want' ter hear 'bout a new soap?) when there was a loud knock at the door.  
  
"Hagrid?"  
  
Harry's hand that had just reached for another hard cake stopped in his motion when he heard the only too familiar voice. He groaned inwardly when the door opened and Snape stepped into the hut.  
  
"Headmaster?"  
  
"Filch needs some help with the decoration and he asked if you have time to --" Snape stopped the same moment he saw Harry. He watched him with strangely glittering eyes.  
  
"Ah, look, the famous Mr. Potter has finally found his way back," he finally stated with a sneer.  
  
Harry didn't know if it were the words or the coldness in the other man's voice that caused him to flinch inwardly. But this time he would give nothing away; that Harry had sworn to himself for the last days, ever since he'd made up his mind to take the challenge and to follow the invitation. So he forced himself not only to held the eye-contact, but also to smile. "Yes, I got the invitation. Though only two days ago, if that is what you mean, Headmaster ."  
  
For just a short moment the black eyes were flashing dangerously before Snape got hold onto his emotions and said in a soft voice," Yes, it was a real surprise to learn now unreliable some of our school owls are. Most of them, I'd say. But since they returned without their letters, maybe they've been intercepted? Now, that is an explanation. And there I thought you simply ignored us."  
  
"Harry would never do such a thing! Why should he?" Harry felt actually more than just a little bit uncomfortable as Hagrid defended him for something Snape had understood just right.  
  
"Yes, why should he? A very good question, Hagrid. You know," Snape replied in a voice that was as sweet as honey while his eyes conveyed pure venom at Harry, "some people are too cowardly to face the demons of their past and prefer to run away." Harry's hands clenched to fists. The anger he felt was not only directed at Snape, who obviously had the firm intention to take off where they had been forced to stop some years ago, but also to himself and his poor attempts to ignore everything that was happening outside the Muggle world. Not to mention the anger he felt due to the fact that Snape had no more difficulty reading Harry than he would have an open book. " But of course you're right, Hagrid. Our dear Potter certainly would never do such a thing." Snape's voice was now dripping with sarcasm. Something that was obviously lost to Hagrid who brimmed brightly at the other man.  
  
"O' course not. Harry's no need for such things." Snape snorted loudly. His eyes were boring into Harry's and held the promise that this wasn't the end of it, that Snape had much more in store for him before Harry left again. "Yer said something about Filch needin' help?"  
  
Obviously irritated, Snape broke their eye contact and turned his attention to Hagrid. "Yes, he said that he has a few problems with the decoration and needs your help. And when you're on the way, show Potter his room for tonight, yes?"  
  
"O' course, Headmaster." And with a last cold gaze towards Harry and a curt 'Thank you', Snape took his leave.  
  
Harry breathed out loudly. "Yer know, I don' think he means it. He just can' help himself."  
  


* * *

  
Harry let his eyes wander around the room, wondering if putting him in his old room had been planned from the beginning or if it had been Snape's idea of a sick joke to torment Harry just a little bit more. What about the others? Would they sleep here, too? Neville, Seamus and Dean? Or would they sleep with their families somewhere else? In any case, one person would be missing. Ron would never again sleep in his old bed. The walls seemed to close in on Harry who suddenly felt as if he couldn't breathe anymore. He jumped up from the bed, went out of the door and towards the exit. He scrambled hastily through the hole, which for the moment was not covered with the portrait of the Fat Lady (easier to do without the portrays instead of giving out the passwords to all the people Hogwarts expect, according to Hagrid) and went in search for Hermione.  
  
McGonagall's old office was filled with shelves, which again were crammed with books and in the middle of the small room, almost completely covered with even more books, was an old wooden desk. Definitely Hermione's style, Harry thought. But since there was no trace of his friend, he left the room again and went around a corner - and straight into Snape. Shocked by the unexpected impact with the former Potion Master, Harry jumped backwards. "Sorry, I was just ---"  
  
"Not paying attention," Snape finished the sentence for him, an unpleasant smile on his face. "Not that this is something unusual. But maybe in the Muggle world it is not necessary to look out for your fellow beings. That of course would explain everything."  
  
Harry's cheeks burned with anger. "I don't know what your problem is, Snape," he snapped angrily, "and frankly, I don't care. I've enough to do with myself and --"  
  
"Oh yes, the amazing Potter politic. Just like your father." Snape's voice had become dangerously soft, something that in the past never had been a good sign but Harry couldn't have cared less. He was tired of being used as a doormat whenever they met and of paying for something that had been between Snape and his father.  
  
"I really can't see how my father fit in this, but if you still have such problems with the name Potter, just stay away from me and I'll happily do the same for the time I'm here. And now, if you could just tell me where I can find Hermione, I won't bother you anymore with my presence."  
  
For just an instant Harry thought he had seen something like surprise in the other man's eyes, but before he could be sure about it it had vanished, had been replaced with the familiar coldness. "Nowhere. Ms. Granger had some urgent business to attend to and won't be back before tomorrow noontime."  
  
Harry's jaw dropped. "What?"  
  
"Not only blind but now deaf as well? That is something new." Snape's sudden bright smile revealed how much he enjoyed the situation. "I said," he repeated, emphasising every word, "that Professor Granger is away and will not return before tomorrow midday."  
  
Harry took a deep breath. This was what hell must be like. He and Snape and nobody to rescue him. He opened his mouth to ask where exactly Hermione was, but decided against it. He had had more than enough for one day. For a short moment they just observed each other. Snape with a shifty gaze and he with an, he was sure about it, rather dumbfounded look in his eyes. When Snape's lips moved as if he was about to say something, Harry just moved on. He had almost passed the former Potion Master when Snape stepped into his way; far too close for Harry's liking. "Running again, Potter?"  
  
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? But you've to try a bit harder, I'm not entirely there yet." Damn it, but his voice wasn't as steady as Harry would have liked. "If you'll excuse me now ..." And without waiting for an answer, he passed the other man and went around the corner.  
  
"Potter! Will you honour us with your presence for lunch?"  
  
Harry closed his eyes. Would he never stop? "I don't think that I feel like being your personal entertainment today. You have to look for somebody else to pick on if you need it." And without further delay, Harry took the stairs. If he would have looked back just once, he would have seen that Snape observed his leaving with a rather odd gaze that held nothing of its usual calculated nastiness.  
  
But so, Harry crossed the Great Hall without looking left or right, his mind busy with the questions, 'what exactly had he done to Snape to make him even more vicious towards Harry than before' and 'if it had not been a big mistake to follow the invitation'. He felt utterly miserable. No Hermione, the main reason why he had come here, but a lot of memories he could have done well without and a new headmaster whose greatest pleasure it was to stalk and torment him.  
  
Without that he had really been aware of it, he had taken the path to Hogsmeade and found himself now right in front of the station. He was just battling with himself if he should return to the castle or go further when he heard somebody calling his name in obvious surprise. Before he could make out the source of it, he had been pulled in an embrace. For a moment all what he could see was flaming red hair.  
  
"Ginny?"  
  
"I'm glad you recognised me," the girl (no, not a girl anymore, a woman, Harry corrected himself) said when she had released Harry, gracing him with a bright smile. "Hermione never told me that you'd come."  
  
Harry felt slightly embarrassed. "Well, she didn't know. I ... I got the message a bit late and so it was a kind of a short-term decision."  
  
"As long as you're here now. I've to send an owl to mum and dad. They'll be delighted to hear that you've come!" Either Ginny didn't notice his sudden tenseness by the mention of her family or simple ignored it. Harry was glad for it. "Why don't we go to the post office and afterwards to The Three Broomsticks to have a butterbeer and to talk?" Ginny was so excited, that she didn't even wait for an answer but grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him towards the wizarding village. "When did you arrive?"  
  
"Just a few hours ago."  
  
"But you've already been in Hogwarts, haven't you? Doesn't it look great again? They've done a wonderful work. Everything looks just the same like before ... well, you know what I mean."  
  
A shadow had darkened her features by the memories of what had happened and also Harry felt a stab of pain. He stopped. "I'm so sorry Ginny. You and your family ... you must hate me."  
  
She watched him with clear confusion. "For what?"  
  
He felt his throat tightening as unbidden pictures of the afternoon when he had seen Ron alive for the last time, showed up in his mind. "For Ron, for what happened, for everything."  
  
"But why?" Ginny asked with a look of incomprehension. "It wasn't your doing that Hogwarts was destroyed or that my brother was killed."  
  
"No, but I should have done something. Should have insisted that he would come with me to Hagrid. Or I should have stayed with him."  
  
"Then you both would be dead now," Ginny said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "And Voldemort would have won."  
  
Harry turned his head aside as he, for the first time in almost five years, felt tears welling up in his eyes. He was shivering. "Nobody wanted any of this, Harry. But once the things were in motion, you were the only one who could end it. You were the only hope for all of us. I don't even dare to think how many more would have died, if you hadn't stopped him. Ron was an accident that neither you nor anybody else could have foreseen. What happened there was no ones but Voldemort's fault. Of course, we miss him, but we never ever blamed you!" Her voice broke and her bright brown eyes were filled with tears. Harry reached out and pulled her in an embrace to offer her what little comfort he could. Harry buried his face in the flaming red hair that was so much like Ron's while Ginny cried silently at his shoulder. For a moment they just stood there; neither caring for the whispers of the passing witches and wizards nor for the cold.  
  
He didn't know how long they've stood there (and didn't really care), when Ginny had regained control over her emotions and lifted her head to meet Harry's eyes. "Did you really think that we would blame you for what has happened? Was that the reason that we haven't heard from you for so long?"  
  
"In parts, I think."  
  
"Oh Harry," Ginny just said and pulled him in an affectionate hug. "You can't imagine how worried we all have been. Mom even thought that you were dead! Let's go to the post office, so that I can send them an owl and then we will go to  _The Three Broomsticks_ , yes?"  
  
Harry just nodded and followed Ginny who lead the way on.  
  
"One fast delivery of a simple message to Ottery St. Catchpole," she explained to a witch in a bright violet robe.  
  
"We have an express delivery and a fast delivery," Harry heard the witch explain while he looked around the multicoloured shelves on which owls of the most different kind were sleeping. "The fast delivery will be there sometime tomorrow morning and the express delivery in the same night."  
  
"I take the express delivery," Ginny said. The witch went to the red board and picked up a middle seized, light brown owl.  
  
"Do you have your message already finished or ..." When Ginny shook her head, the witch gave her a parchment and a quill. For a few moments, the scraping of the quill and the soft rustling of feathers was the only thing heard in the otherwise empty office. Then, with a satisfied smile, Ginny rolled the piece of paper together and returned it to the woman.  
  
"And it definitely will get there tonight?"  
  
"Of course! We are known for our reliable service." The answer sounded almost offended.  
  
"Excellent," Ginny exclaimed with such a childlike joy, that Harry had no problems recognising the little girl that he knew from long ago.  
  
Only a few moments later they had left the post office behind them and entered  _The Three Broomsticks_. They managed to get a table right beside the fireplace and ordered their butterbeers. "Mum and dad will be so happy to see you tomorrow and Fred and George ... Did you know that they opened their shop? It is in Diagon Alley. Mum almost got a heart attack when they invited her to the grand opening. But she seems to be fine with it now. I think, it was more the shock that all of her children had left home. Have you been to the school already?" she asked him, brimming with pride.  
  
"Yes, I heard the news, Ginny. Congratulations!" Harry stated a bit awkwardly. "I'm sure you'll make a great teacher."  
  
"You really think so? I'm a bit nervous. I just got the letter last month, and I still can't believe my luck. I always loved Potions but I never ever thought that Snape would support me in getting the job. You've already seen him, haven't you? Then you must know that he is the new headmaster."  
  
"Oh yes, I have seen him," Harry said gloomily. "Poor first years."  
  
"He isn't that bad once you get to know him. If it weren't for him and my father, Hogwarts would still be closed. They were the ones who persuaded the ministry to rebuild it, you know. It was a big thing. For weeks I didn't see my dad at all. He spent the whole time either in the ministry or working out strategies with Snape to convince the others."  
  
"That's great. I just don't understand while all of sudden everybody feels the need to praise him to the skies. But let's not talk about it anymore."  
  
"Right! Change of subject. Tell me what you've done all those years? Is it true that you've returned to the Muggle world? Dad told us. What are you doing there?"  
  


* * *

  
Darkness had already fallen, when they were on their back way to the castle. They had spent the whole afternoon talking about everything that had happened while Harry was away, and Ginny had wanted to know everything about his current life. Now they covered the way in silence. Not an uncomfortable silence but this kind of silence that would settle between two friends who had talked about everything and were now content just to be in each other's company. The afternoon had just flown by and Harry was surprised how pleasant it had been. Yet, a few questions and doubts remained. For one Ginny's assurance that none of her family blamed him for what had happened. As good as it sounded, Harry couldn't really believe it and still felt uncertain when he thought about the forthcoming celebration and the reunion that would come with it. The second thing that kept his mind busy was one of Ginny's countless questions, which he found impossible to answer. 'Are you happy?' Was he? Asked a few months ago he would have said yes, but now that he had seen again what he had left behind, he wasn't so sure anymore. Luckily, Ginny had been too excited to notice that he never gave an answer.  
  
And the last point that tormented him was waiting right at the end of the way. Snape. He still had neither an explanation for the strong hatred with which Snape treated him nor for his own reaction towards it. That every meeting of them was spiced with nasty remarks had been nothing unusual in the past, but why Snape's hate for him had grown so strong while he had been away, Harry had no idea. And even less why he seemed unable to ignore it. He had - more or less well - managed it in the past, so why not now? Why was he so hurt by the open hostility? Had he got so soft during his absence from the wizard world, or was it because he, somehow deep hidden, had had the hope that anything had changed? That Snape's strong dislike towards him would have changed into something different just because they had fought back to back and had played mutual lifesaver? Yes, somehow he had done exactly this, even when it had been childish. For the time between the fall of Hogwarts until the last terrible battle Snape had taken on Dumbledore's responsibility and had looked out for him. Not the way the older wizard always had done, and certainly Harry had never been able to speak with Snape (not that he had spoken very much at all during this time) but whenever he'd felt like breaking apart, Snape had been there. A silent companion in one of Harry's most terrible times.  
  
That was at least the way it had felt to Harry. But maybe this all had been nothing but an illusion? Born in the mind of a boy walking on the edge of sanity who would have clutched to anything that would preserve him from losing his mind?  
  
Harry didn't know.  
  
" ... stay here, Harry?"  
  
"Huh?" Confused, he looked at the woman at his side who obviously had tried to get his attention for some time now.  
  
"You were very far away, weren't you?" Ginny observed him curiously.  
  
 _Not that far, just at the end of the drive_ , he thought grimly. "I don't know, it just feels a bit strange to be here again, after all this time," he just said then, for some reason not willing to share his thoughts with the girl who once had had a crush on him.  
  
"You could stay here, you know?" Ginny told him. "I don't know if you've heard it yet, but Hogwarts still needs a few teachers. How about the flying lessons? Or, even better, Defence against the Dark Arts? Who could teach them better than the man who'd defeated Voldemort?"  
  
Harry couldn't help but smile. "I'm sure that Snape would be thrilled if I would apply for the position. Besides, I have a life to which I've to return some day in the not so far future."  
  
Ginny watched him thoughtfully as if pondering something. Harry wasn't so sure if he really wanted to find out what exactly it was. "How long have you planned to stay?" she finally asked.  
  
"At least for the celebration tomorrow," he said, adding silently, with a look towards the castle that had appeared in front of them,  _if I survive that long_.  
  


* * *

  
The dinner lifted Harry's spirits enough to make him think that he maybe had a chance to last through the next hours. On the contrary to his fears, everything went well. He had an almost pleasant conversation with Professor Trelawney who for once didn't predict his immediate death but told him that the upcoming celebration would be wonderful if just Mars wouldn't interfere with the orbit of Saturn. It was a statement that caused the whole table to roll their eyes, something Professor Trelawney didn't take too well and so she, obviously offended, kept silent for the rest of the meal.   
  
Professor Sprout and Flitwick were engaged in a discussion with a group of people Harry didn't know (probably guests like him) about the pros and cons of using charms to make plants growing faster. Hagrid explained to Harry with enthusiasm what he had planned for the next school year and even Snape was endurable for a change. He and Ginny were absorbed in a discussion about ingredients for a new invisibility potion.  
  
Harry, who sat diagonally opposite from the new headmaster couldn't help but notice that Snape looked even thinner than in the past and that his skin was no longer sallow but white. Yet his eyes when speaking with Ginny sparkled with a passion Harry had only seen two times before. At first when he'd held his famous speech about Potion when they had their first lesson and the last time when Voldemort had been defeated.  
  
Harry had been so absorbed in his pondering, that he noticed too late that Snape had turned his attention away from Ginny and towards him. The black eyes were scrutinising him with such intensity as if they wanted to burn him. Harry swallowed nervously as he waited for a typically Snape-like comment, wondering what it would be this time. He didn't know if it were those others present, or what else, but it never came. Instead the eyes returned to their usual coldness and Snape turned his attention to an older witch in a fire-red robe and a bright yellow wizard's hat to his right.  
  
"Fredette Pentyrch. She's from the Ministry of Magic," Hagrid explained him in a whisper when he saw Harry's questioningly gaze. "Thought nobody knows what she's really doin'. It's all a bit strange. But I believe that she's here to make sure that everythin' works fine. The Ministry is nervous about the remaining Death Eaters. They think they'd have a plan to disturb our celebration tomorrow. Yeh know, somethin' like a late revenge."  
  
Harry felt suddenly very cold by Hagrid's explanation. Somehow he'd hoped that Voldemort's supporters had vanished with the defeat of their Dark Lord. Obviously this wasn't the case. "But Voldemort is dead, why should they ---"  
  
"If yeh ask me, that's just scare tactics so that we'll be 'specially carefully. They've other problems as to come --" Hagrid stopped when Snape rose from the table.  
  
Hagrid and he were the last to leave the Great Hall. "Do yeh want ter come with me an' have some tea?" Harry heard Hagrid asking just when he saw a large bronze plate that decorated the wall beside the oak doors and which, Harry was sure about it, hadn't been there before. Slowly, he went closer.   
  
The top and the sides of the plate were ornamented with the four symbols of the houses in Hogwarts; a lion, an eagle, a badger and a serpent. It was a magnificent work. Every detail was there, even the talons of the Ravenclaw eagle and the pattern of the Slytherin serpent and it's poison fangs. It was an almost disturbingly vivid work of art. Below the top ornaments were engraved the words 'In Memoria', followed slightly below by a long list of names, starting with Albus Dumbledore, followed by Professor McGonagall, Madam Hooch, Professor Vector and other teachers, all of who had given everything possible in their fight against Voldemort.  
  
And the names of their Professors were just the beginning. Subdivided into their four Houses followed an even longer list. All of them students of Hogwarts. All of them dead.  
  
Harry felt nauseated. So many ...  
  
His hand reached out to stroke over one name:  
  
 _Ron Weasley_  
  


* * *

  
Restlessly, Harry wandered around the Gryffindor tower; from his former dormitory to the common room and back where he laid down again on his old bed and closed his eyes only to open them again almost immediately. He couldn't do it. Couldn't yield to his fatigue. Not yet and maybe never again. Not with the nightmares that were waiting in the shadows of his consciousness for just such an opportunity.  
  
He stood up and went to the small water pitcher, put down his glasses and splashed cold water in his face like he had done countless times before, when he still had had a life, when he had done more but trying to exist. A task, that at times like this seemed impossible.  
  
 _"You don't understand, Harry Potter, do you? I am your past, your present and your future. You can't kill me, not even if you'd have the power. If you kill me, that what is you, will die with me."_  
  
Harry bent over the pitcher and leaned his head against the cool mirror. Voldemort had been right, almost, for Harry had already died months ago when Hogwarts had fallen. The only thing that had kept him going then had been the thought for revenge. Revenge for his family, for his friends, for two lives that Voldemort had taken away from him.  
  
 _"Look around you, Harry Potter. You're surrounded by my Death Eaters and you surely can't believe to have a chance against me. I could overpower you before you would even be aware of it and make your life worse than hell. Is that really what you want? "_  
  
{You know him. Teach me what I need to know to defeat him}  
  
{I can't. The only way to defeat him would be to beat him at his own game. And the Dark Arts are not taken lightly. You are not -and maybe never will be- ready to learn them}  
  
{If you won't teach me, I'll find somebody else.}  
  
 _"Or you could join me and I'd make you a greater wizard than Dumbledore and his staff could ever have done. Don't be a fool like your father and allow the sacrifice your mother has made to become meaningless, Harry. All you have to do is to kill her," he said pointing at a little Muggle girl no older than seven that crouched on the ground, sobbing. "Kill her and join my ranks and become truly great."_  
  
{I can teach you the techniques, but that won't help if you allow yourself to fall for his lures. Remember, he will use any means to kill you - and so should you. Or all that we did will be for nothing. If you fail, we all will be dead. You first.}  
  
 _The voice cleared his mind and he laughed. A disastrous sound that echoed loud through the dark forest and caused the Death Eaters to take a step back. "We both know that this will never happen." His voice was as emotionless as his laughter before._  
  
{His biggest weakness is his ego. Provoke him.}  
  
 _"Tell me, Dark Lord," he said, emphasising the last two words sarcastically," are you so afraid of me that you need your supporters around you instead of facing me alone?"  
  
For a moment the red eyes of his enemy got very dark, probably for fury. It was a look, which, only a few months before, would have left Harry trembling for fear. Not so now that he had nothing to lose anymore. Impassively, he held the gaze. "Very well, Harry Potter. I see that you've made your choice. Prepare to meet your parents again very soon." This said, Voldemort waved his Death Eaters away. One after the other disapparated and although Harry could not see their faces which were hidden under masks, he could make out whispered disapproval by their master's decision. It took only a few moments before they had the clearing for themselves._  
  
{Never ever allow your attention to waver, to give him the opportunity to strike when you're not prepared. And most important: Be prepared for everything from a quite harmless Jelly-Legs Jinx to an Avada Kedavra. If given time and the opportunity, he plays with his victims before he kills them. And Potter, don't give him a break like you did with Malfoy in the Duelling Club. It would be your doom.}  
  
 _And then it began..._  
  
Harry's eyes flew open and he jumped away from the water pincher. Wide-eyed he looked around to make sure that he was indeed in Hogwarts and not in the dark forest, battling a fight that had been inevitable since the day his parents had died. The face that met him in the mirror had lost all colour so that his scar stuck out even more brightly than normally.  
  
It did nothing to soothe his strained nerves or to ease his urge to get out. Harry didn't know if it was the room, his exertion, or the memories of his last battle or maybe a combination of everything, but he felt entombed. And without giving it a second thought, he grabbed his cloak and all but flew down the stairs.  
  


* * *

  
Harry was almost completely out of breath when he finally reached the frozen lake and sat down on one of the benches that surrounded it, his back turned to the Forbidden Forest. Despite the distance the moonlight was bright enough for Harry to get glimpse of the hoops on the Quidditch field. It was a strangely comforting view, even though it awoke certain nostalgia within him when he remembered the many hours he'd spent on his broomstick either practising or playing. How often had he stood there, waiting for the blast that would open the game? With a bitter smile he recalled some of the happiest hours in his life.  
  
He was so far away with his thoughts, that he didn't notice the black shadow approaching until it was right beside him. "Wallowing in memories, Potter?" Harry almost jumped for shock. He watched as Snape sat down beside him without breaking the eye contact.  
  
"No," Harry said curtly, not really willing to continue Snape's game.  
  
"I would have expected you to be in bed by now. Why are you here? Trying to run again?"  
  
"That is my business, I think, not yours."  
  
"True," Snape said softly. Harry wasn't sure, but he thought he heard something like a hint of discontentment in the normally emotionless voice. In any case, Snape's behaviour was very strange. The only time he'd experienced Snape in a similar mood was during the few months they had worked together, when Snape had taught him what he needed to know to defeat Voldemort - the Dark Arts.  
  
For sometime they sat together in a - to Harry's surprise -comfortable silence. But just as Harry felt his emotional turmoil ebb, Snape came to his feet. "I expect you'll take your leave again after the celebration?" The voice had once more lost every trace of emotion.  
  
Harry felt anger rising up within him, a very familiar and so also somehow comfortable feeling when dealing with Snape. At least it wasn't as unsettling as the other emotions he had felt lately when it came to the new Headmaster of Hogwarts. "Why?"  
  
"Why what, Potter?"  
  
"Why are you doing this? Why first doing everything possible to get me here and than treat me as if I were just as unwelcome and annoying as a Bundimun? And don't start again with my father or 'famous Potter'. I can't hear it anymore!" Harry had jumped up from the bench and glared at his former teacher.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about Potter," the voice was mild, almost as if Snape was talking to a mental deranged person or a little child. "Maybe your new life has made you a bit touchy?"  
  
Harry clenched his hands to fists to prevent him from doing something that he, most certainly, would regret later. "All right," he said, his voice very tight. "I have really no idea what your problem is, Snape. I'm not talking about my father or your grudge against him, but your problem with *me*. And as long as you don't tell me, I cannot help you. I never ever wanted to be the Famous Potter. I didn't even know anything about the whole thing before I came here!" Harry's voice became louder as he recalled the injustice and nastiness with which the other wizard had treated him for as long as they knew each other." And frankly, I could well do without the title. I'd trade everything without thinking twice, if it would give me back my life. " Harry stopped, forcing himself to calm down again, with no real success. "It maybe hard for you to imagine, but I had no real desire to be the number one enemy of somebody like Voldemort. And I had even less desire to face and fight against him on a regular basis and to see my friends be killed in the process. And to be truthful, most of times I'm not even sure if I really want to be the boy _who lived_ , if it wouldn't have been much better if Voldemort would have killed me too." Harry stopped as the pain became almost unbearable.  
  
 _His parents ... Cedric ... Ron ... Sirius ... countless other people ... So many death. So much pain. All of them sacrificed in a fight that wouldn't have been necessary if the right people would have taken the necessary precaution; if they would have done more but talking nicely._  
  
Harry's head was spinning. Blood roared in his ears and his vision blurred. Yet there seemed to be nothing he could do to fight off what he knew would come.  
  
 _The ground filled with the blood of the innocents; the air filled with their cries. Unimaginable anguish and pain. Lost. Desperate. Hopeless.  
  
'Did you like what I did with Hogwarts and those who tried to defy me?'  
  
'Don't worry you'll join your friends very soon.' ...  
  
'Avada Kedavra!'  
  
A flash of green light filled the air, left him for a moment blind, helpless and wondering if he would survive once more. When the green light dispersed, the small girl laid on the ground - dead.  
  
'Let the games begin my foolish boy. I hope you've learnt a little bit more since our last meeting. I wouldn't like to be finished too fast. Oh yes, and give your parents my greetings." Cold, insane laughter filled the air and like through a haze, Harry saw Voldemort lifting his wand and open his mouth..._  
  
"Harry!" Somebody shook his shoulders, roughly. Dazed, Harry looked up, almost prepared to see the Dark Lord himself again. But it was just Snape who kneeled on the ground before him and who was watching him with concern. Ground? Why was he kneeling on the cold ground?  
  
"What happened, Harry?"  
  
Harry? Something was definitely strange here. Confused, he looked at the other man, searching for something in his eyes he couldn't quite grasp. Maybe for an assurance that he was safe, that all his memories were nothing but a bad nightmare from which he could wake up again at anytime. Of course he didn't find anything. How should he when every part of what was haunting him had been reality? Snape's worried gaze did nothing to ease his distress. Harry felt rotten. His head ached, his whole body hurt as if somebody just had put a Cruciatus Curse on him, he was trembling and he felt terrible sick.  
  
"Come, I'll take you to the hospital wing."  
  
Harry shook his head. "I'm fine," his cracking voice belied his words.  
  
"Certainly, Potter. All people who are perfectly fine collapse for no reason. Now come."  
  
Harry held the other man's gaze without flinching. "You're right, I'm not fine," he begun, trying to sort his thoughts. "But believe me, it is nothing that could be treated in the hospital wing." An almost hysterical laugh escaped him. "Since I arrived here, you're accusing me of being a coward, of running --"  
  
"I don't think that this is a good time for that. You need to rest and --"  
  
"Oh, the timing couldn't be better, Snape. You've stalked and offended me since I arrived here this morning. But you know nothing about me or the reason that I -"  
  
"Potter!" the voice held a warning undertone and the pressure on his shoulders increased. Harry couldn't have cared less.  
  
" - went away without looking back." Without being aware of it, he took hold onto the other man's forearms as if the contact could give him strength by a confrontation on more than one level. Tears burned in his eyes. "Do you know how it feels to see your friends around you dying without being able to prevent it despite your famous name? Do you know how it feels to hear over and over again their cries, no matter if you're awake or asleep? To be over and over confronted with your worst nightmare as soon as you dare to close your eyes? Know what it feels like and then judge me. Not before."  
  
Harry stopped before his voice could break completely. Snape watched him with an unreadable gaze. "I have been there," the older wizard finally broke the strained silence that had settled between them. "Being a former Death Eater doesn't make life much easier than yours."  
  
Harry snorted. "I'm sure about it." His voice was cold and for a flash he though he had seen something like hurt in the other man's eyes. It didn't give him any satisfaction.  
  
"It is something I still pay for and always will. You're not the only one with demons that haunt him, Potter. But I'm still here and didn't run away. Maybe that is the reason that my life is just a little bit more bearable than yours. You should try it some time." The words lacked the nastiness of other times as Snape finished with a bitter voice. He seemed at least as tired and exhausted as Harry felt.   
  
The black eyes were watching Harry impassively, almost resigned. It was a view Harry didn't like at all. The Snape he knew was unfair, nasty, and cold, but certainly not this ... whatever it was. It was as if Snape had shown him a complete new side of himself tonight.  
  
Harry shook his head. He would never understand him. Snape was a closed book to him. "What?" Snape demanded, obviously feeling not too comfortable by his scrutinising gaze. Harry was glad to hear that a bit of the sharpness had returned to the other man's voice.  
  
"Nothing. Not really."  
  
Snape eyed him sceptically as if not sure if he should believe him. "Fine," he finally said in a strange voice. "I think we should call it a night and go to bed."  
  
If somebody would have asked him later, Harry couldn't have said why he had done it. Maybe in the attempt to stop the emotional roller coaster he had been riding since his arrival in Hogwarts, maybe to clear his confused emotions when it came to the object in question, or maybe simple to prevent Snape from saying anything that could destroy the fragile openness that had developed between them at some point during the night. Or perhaps even easier -- just because he felt like it.  
  
Harry neither knew nor cared about his motivation or possible consequences as he followed his urge and released the forearms he was still holdings in a death-like grasp, grabbed the other man's face and kissed him softly on his lips before releasing him again.  
  
Snape stared at him in something like absolute bewilderment, maybe even fear. "Potter ... Harry ..." His voice was barely more than a whisper. Hesitantly, Harry reached out, caressed with one finger the face of the shocked man before he run his hand through his surprisingly soft black hair. Not really greasy after all. An absurd thought in an absurd time. Snape closed his eyes, though with what sentiment Harry couldn't say. The world around him blurred. This time not because of a memory that threatened to reach the surface, but because ... Harry really didn't know. Blinded with tears he still couldn't allow to flow, he bent his head and kissed Snape softly on his check before he got on his feet.  
  
"You're right. We should go to bed." He wasn't sure if he'd spoken the words or if he had just thought them. His mind was no less confused than the other man looked. One part of him demanded for a continuation of the strange, but nevertheless wonderful experience while another part screamed at him to get up and to get away before Snape could recover from the shock. Harry listened to the second voice.  
  


* * *

  
Without looking back, Harry fled to the castle and into the Gryffindor dormitory. He undressed and left his clothes where he'd shed them, not caring where they'd landed. He was in an almost shock-like state when he went over to the pitcher and prepared for bed. What had he done? How should he stay up tomorrow and face Snape? It had been one of his most stupid ideas lately, no question. But it had felt so right to do. Harry licked his lips, savouring the diminishing taste of the other man. He searched in himself. No, no regrets. Just a weak yet impossible to ignore longing.  
  
Harry groaned and went to bed.  
  
On his pillow lay a small bottle, labelled in a very familiar handwriting:  _Dreamless Sleep_  
  
Harry smiled feebly before he opened the bottle and drunk the bitter purple coloured potion and laid down. Tomorrow he would meet Hermione, decide what to do next and how to deal with the new developments. He and Snape would need...  
  
And with these thoughts he fell asleep, for the first time in years not troubled by nightmares.  
  
 **\--**


	3. Shattering the Masks

_The sky had darkened so much, that Harry could no longer see the road beneath his feet. Involuntarily, his hand reached into his cloak for his wand.  
  
It wasn't there.  
  
Suddenly he heard a high-pitched laughter, which seemed to come from everywhere at once. His blood froze and only with an immense effort of willpower he could suppress the panic that was welling up within him. He disregarded the pain of the small rocks and thorns he stepped on and stumbled further through the darkness, as far and fast away from the sound as he could for he knew, if he would hesitate just one moment too long, the source of the laughter would catch up with him and he would be lost.  
  
His lungs seemed to be on fire as he stopped. He was panting and had no idea of his surrounding. Harry didn't think that he could run one more step as his saw suddenly, somewhere in the distance, a faint light. Was it just a game his eyes were playing? Harry didn't have time to ponder the possibilities when he heard a voice very close behind him:  
  
... three, four, death knocks on your door ...  
  
... four, five, try to stay alive ...  
  
He didn't turn around to see how much lead he had left but ran towards the light.  
  
"Haarryy, wait for me. Let us plaay!"  
  
Almost there, just a few more steps ...  
  
He stumbled over a log and fell. Not onto the wet earth, but in a hole that suddenly had appeared underneath him. His fall didn't last long and before his mind had even registered what had happened, he found himself again onto the ground.  
  
When he lifted his head, red glowing eyes were watching him from above. Then, ever so slowly, the head of a gigantic snake tried to press itself through the hole. Harry swallowed.  
  
"What are you doing here, Harry? Have you forgotten that you've Potions? We'll lose the House Cup if Snape continues to take points from us." Stunned, Harry looked at the figure that suddenly stood to his right.  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"The one and only," his friend said, grinning brightly.  
  
"But ... but aren't you dead?"  
  
He never got an answer for in the next moment Ron had vanished and a narrow, lightened passage had appeared where his friend had stood just moments ago. Hesitantly, Harry looked around. The hole above him had closed at some time so that his only chance of getting out from wherever he was, was to follow the way.  
  
With every step he took, the narrow passage seemed to widen until Harry found himself again in a large stone hall.  
  
"Ah, the great Harry Potter decided to join us. Let us applaud him." The sneering voice came from a small island in the middle of a sea. "And if he would take a seat now, we could even continue," Snape said coolly. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Harry looked around for a boat or something similar, that could carry him over the water. "Hundred points from Gryffindor!" Not willing to give Snape another opportunity to take even more points from them, Harry stepped into the icy water. "Seems as if somebody didn't complete his homework." Even without watching Snape's face he could see the nasty smile that had accompanied those words.  
  
Slowly, Harry begun to swim through the cold, black water. "Too bad and to think I wanted him to volunteer with the love potion I've planned for today. Wouldn't you like that, Potter?" Harry could hear the whole class laughing, the loudest of them Snape. He could already see the shore when he suddenly felt something pulling him down. Further and further. Harry thrashed with his arms in the hope to free himself. It didn't help. The laughter above him hadn't stopped and like from far way, just before the water surrounded him completely, he heard Snape saying, "Not really that famous anymore now, Potter, are you?"_  
  
With a gasp, Harry sat up, his arms still thrashing around in the attempt to escape the icy-cold water. "Harry! It's all right, it's just me," he heard a familiar voice beside him. He stopped moving and finally opened his eyes. Relief flooded through him when he discovered that he was nowhere near any water but in the Gryffindor dormitory. Beside his bed he could make out a figure ...  
  
"Hermione?" he asked, feeling for his glasses which he knew he had put somewhere on his cabinet last night.  
  
"Of course it's me. You didn't expect somebody else, did you?" A smile spread over Harry's face by the teasing undertone.  
  
"No, not really," he said, putting the glasses which he'd finally found on and smiled at the woman beside him. Hermione looked exactly like in his memories, just a bit older. The same bushy brown hair and the same sparkling dark-brown eyes. In her hands she hold a dripping wet flannel. Harry's hand went automatically to his face. It was wet. "So you are responsible for me drowning in my dream?" His voice was light, yet he was strangely relieved to have found an explanation for yet another very odd and scaring nightmare.  
  
Hermione graced him with a guilty smile. "I didn't mean to do that. There was just no other way to wake you up. You were sleeping as if you haven't had a good sleep for years." Harry didn't reply but pulled the curtains back, which surrounded his bed. The sun shone brightly into the room.  
  
"When have you arrived here? Snape told me yesterday, that you wouldn't be back before noontime?"  
  
"It is almost noontime. You've slept away the morning," Hermione stated with a hint of disapproval in her voice. "But Severus said that you had something like a rough night and that you should sleep in. How do you feel?"  
  
Harry was sure that his face had taken on the colour of an overripe tomato when the memories of last night returned to him very vividly. He shook his head and forced himself not to think about it, but to concentrate on Hermione who had conjured a mug of tea from somewhere which she now offered him.  
  
"Thank you." Harry invited her to sit down beside him on the bed.  
  
"We will have lunch very soon, so I thought just a tea would be fine."  
  
"It's great!" he said, trying to push images of soft lips and strangely glittering black eyes aside.  
  
"So?"  
  
"So what?" Harry regarded her with the most innocent look he could manage while his mind travelled back in time and reminded him almost cruelly of what he had done.  
  
"How are you?"  
  
"Oh yes. I'm fine. Really. Especially now," Harry told her with a smile. "I'm happy to see you."  
  
"You are sure? You're acting a bit strange. "  
  
If she only knew why he was acting so, Harry thought. Would she understand? "I'm just not really a morning person. Give me a few moments and I'll be myself again," he said casually, "Why don't you wait for me and ... how much time do we have left until lunch?"  
  
"Around an hour. Why?" Hermione's confusion was obvious.  
  
"Know what? I'll make myself presentable and then we will go and have a walk, yes?"  
  
"If you think so. Of course," Hermione said before she stood up and, regarding him with a very strange look, took her leave.  
  
Harry let his head fell back onto the thick pillow and groaned silently. This was not a good start for a new day, not at all. He had really looked forward to seeing Hermione again, so why kept his mind wandering to something he wished he'd never have done? Not entirely true ...  
  
He had just managed to get into some clothes, when the door opened and a very green man with a bag in his hand and a toad on his shoulder came in, cursing loudly. "Neville?"  
  
"Harry!" Neville exclaimed with a smile, throwing his bag onto his old bed. "Great to see you again. I've heard that you would come. How are you?"  
  
"Er ... fine. But what happened to you?" Harry asked, curiously.  
  
"Oh that. That was Fred's and George's idea of a joke. A welcome drink they told me. I took it, drunk it and before I could even blink I was completely green."  
  
"Oh, they're already here?"  
  
"Yes. Probably tormenting Ginny or somebody else," Neville confirmed, waving with his wand in the obvious attempt to get right of the colour; unsuccessfully. "Oh no, just don't tell me, I've to stay this way for the whole day." He tried a few more spells then gave up and sat down on his bed. "I already feared that I would be alone up here. Good to see that you're here to." A wide grin had spread over his face. "Have you heard if Dean and Seamus will come, too? Would be fun to be all together again, wouldn't it? Well, almost," he added, a shadow of sadness in his eyes when he looked at Ron's bed.  
  
"So, what are you doing now?" Harry, not willing to talk with Neville or anybody about Ron, asked in the attempt to change the topic.  
  
"I just returned from India. I'm an Auror, like my father," he said rather proudly.  
  
"Must be very exciting," Harry stated with more enthusiasm than he really felt. How came it that everybody, even Neville, had managed to make something out of their life?  
  
All, except him.  
  
"Not really. I think that Voldemort's defeat was warning enough for the dark side to stop their activities or to go into hiding. It is very calm at the moment. The most exciting thing..." Harry stopped listening. He was not really in the mood to talk about the dark side or about obscure events. It was not that he didn't have enough own experiences with it. Neville however, obviously hadn't noticed his abstraction for when Harry was finally ready to take his leave, he was still talking. "... can you believe this, Harry?"  
  
His mind was racing in search for the right answer. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to ignore Neville. "No," he tried. "That is really unbelievable."  
  
"It's amazing! You should have seen it. The coloured sky, the lights.It was so beautiful and scary at the same time."  
  
Harry heaved a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry Neville, but Hermione is waiting for me. We want to go for a walk..."  
  
"That is all right," Neville beamed at him. "I've to send an owl to my Granny anyway to tell her that I've arrived safely."  
  
Harry opened the door. "She is not coming?"  
  
"No, she said that she doesn't like to be crammed in with countless other people. Hi, Hermione. Ok, Harry, I'll see you later," Neville said and stormed down the stairs.  
  
Hermione starred after him, gaping. "He is ... green."  
  
"Fred and George," Harry explained with a grin.

* * *

  
It seemed as if the castle had undergone a complete transformation somewhere between last night and this morning. Everything was decorated with the colours of the four different houses and the passages and the main entrance was filled with many more people than the day before. Some of them Harry knew only from sight, some of them he'd never seen before and some he knew personally.  
  
"Hi you two. How are you?" It was Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff girl that had been in the same year like Hermione and Harry.  
  
And she wasn't the only one. Hermione's face had taken on a slightly sour expression when the oak doors were finally in view.  
  
"Hello Harry! Do you ha ---"  
  
"Yes, he is fine. No, he doesn't have time, Colin!"  
  
Surprised, Harry looked at Hermione. "What was that?"  
  
"I'm sorry. But I looked forward to talking to you and now all the people here... I mean, it is not that I don't understand them, but I just wanted to spend some time with you alone."  
  
"So do I. I was just a bit... ah, never mind. And now let's go before anybody else turns up." He led the way on towards the exit. But before they could slip out, somebody stepped into their way. Snape and Lupin. Harry could feel how his legs turned to jelly when his eyes fell onto Snape who in return was watching him with a strange glistening, before his eyes changed to their usual coldness.  
  
"Ms. Granger. Mr. Potter." Harry winced inwardly by the absence of any emotion in Snape's voice.  
  
"Pr ... Snape," he stammered before he turned his attention to Remus Lupin, whom he greeted with a slight smile.  
  
"Harry, it is good to see you again. I hope you are well? Hermione, Professor Snape just told me about it. Congratulations. I'm sure you'll do wonderful."  
  
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione beamed while Harry wished that the ground would open up and swallow him so that he wouldn't have to see anymore the loathing with which Snape observed - no better - scrutinised him. He felt like a rat in a laboratory. Yet, he couldn't even feel the usual anger within him that had become his second nature by everything involving Snape. But then again, he had been the initiator last night, not the other man. So how should he blame Snape for the hostility with which he regarded him now?  
  
It had been a mistake. If it just wouldn't have felt so right...  
  
Harry felt himself flushing by those memories and he had to look away, afraid that some of his most inner thoughts would show on his face.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Confused, he looked up. "What?"  
  
"We should go if we --"  
  
"You're right," Harry said before Hermione had even a chance to finish her sentence. He grabbed her arm and pulled her past the teachers with a murmured 'See you later'.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione stopped in her motion when they had reached the Quidditch Pitch. "I think that's far enough now. Maybe you could explain me, what that was about?"  
  
Harry regarded her with an - so he hoped at least -innocent gaze . "I thought we wanted to go --"  
  
"Harry! You've never been a very good liar. What is going on between you and Snape?"  
  
"I've no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"I'm not blind. First you call out for him in your dream, then --"  
  
"I certainly did no such thing," Harry said, feeling himself reddening even further. Did he really...?  
  
"Oh, you did. Right before you awoke. And then this now. I mean, you two never got along really well, but this is something new. You look at each other as if you either want to kill or hug the other one. So what is it? Did you have another fight?"  
  
"Er... not exactly."  
  
"What is it then? I thought you two --"  
  
"I kissed him," Harry pressed out, not looking at Hermione.  
  
" -- would have ... Excuse me? You did what?"  
  
Hermione's eyes were piercing him. "I told him my opinion, collapsed, he was there, I suddenly had the terrible urge to kiss him, did so and now he hates me even more than before. End of story."  
  
Hermione shook her head but if in disbelief, shock or what else, Harry couldn't say. "All right. Why don't we sit down somewhere and you tell me the whole story?"

* * *

  
It was long past noontime when he and Hermione finally returned to the school. They had spent the last three hours talking and only their hunger had let them realise how the time had flown by. The place in front of the castle was crowded with many different vehicles. Cars in different sizes, coaches with and without horses, coaches with something that looked like small dragons and even an old engine. From the drive he could see a small group of wizards coming towards the castle. Hermione didn't pay any attention to it and went inside. The main entrance was crowded with people.  
  
"How comes it that there are so many? I thought it was just for the students who have been here."  
  
"Of course not. You just got the invitation for the students. But all important people who had something to do with Hogwarts at one or another time have been invited. See there? Even the wizard press is here. It is a very important day that no person would like to miss," Hermione explained.  
  
"And now let's go. I believe, *you* have something to do before this evening." Harry groaned. "You promised me. Besides, it is the best for both of you."  
  
"Certainly."  
  
They had reached the end of the stairs and were following now the broad stone corridor that led to the kitchen. "What is the worst that could happen?"  
  
"Snape killing me? Or I him? And if you are very lucky we'll kill each other," Harry said gloomily, glaring at Hermione who chuckled. "It is not funny!"  
  
"No, not really." Hermione tried to stifle her laughter. "But somehow it is. You know, you, who battled and defeated Voldemort, are afraid of having a conversation with Snape, a normal teacher."  
  
"It is not just a conversation with a normal teacher," Harry said. "We are talking here about Snape, somebody who absolutely hates me. And who I hate," he added with a voice that was not half asconvincing as he would have liked.  
  
They came to hold in front of the picture with the giant fruit-bowl. Hermione stretched out her forefinger and tickled a huge green pear, with the result that it, after much squiggling, turned into a large green door handle. She grabbed it and opened the door. "You know the saying about the thin border between love and hate?"  
  
"I wish you wouldn't have told me." Harry felt more than uneasy by the turn their conversation had taken.  
  
"But it is fitting, isn't it? I don't think that one of you really hate the other. On the contrary." Hermione said no more for in the next moment they had stepped into the huge kitchen and were surrounded by elves. Almost as soon as they had spoken their wishes, they found themselves at a small table with mugs of steaming tea and plates of sandwiches and biscuits in front of them.  
  
"Where is Dobby?" Harry asked.  
  
"Oh, he and Winky found new positions in the Ministry kitchen. We heard about it from Percy. And they even get paid," Hermione told him not without pride.

* * *

  
"You will manage it." Hermione's encouraging tone didn't help much. Harry felt as if he would go to his own execution when he left the kitchen and went back to the Great Hall in search for Snape. What should he tell him? 'Excuse me, Headmaster, but we have to talk about me pouncing on you last night. I did it because I felt like it but I still hate you. Oh yes, and by the way, thank you for the sleep potion'. Harry smiled grimly. Somehow it didn't sound very good. In his mind he replayed the talk he had had with Hermione.  
  
 _'Why did you do it?'  
  
'If I just knew.'  
  
'I think you do, you just can't admit it. Have you ever wondered why it was so personal between you two all these years?'  
  
'Because of his grudge against my father.'  
  
'Think further, why did you two work together if he hates you so much? Why saving your life and vice versa. Why would he be so worried after we didn't hear from you for such a long time?'  
  
'He was just worried, that he would have to search for somebody else to pick on.'  
  
'Oh, don't be so childish, Harry. Maybe it is really on time that you two talk?'  
  
'I don't think that this is a good idea.'  
  
'Let's see, you jumped on him in the middle of the night, kissed him and then vanished without an explanation. But you don't think that a talk might be in order?'  
  
'You've seen how he treats me, just as if I would be nothing more but an annoyance. And I don't really feel like giving him even more chances to treat me this way.'  
  
'Well, I'm not surprised by his behaviour. It maybe a bit extreme, but this is Snape. I for one, wouldn't be very happy either, if somebody kissed me and then ran off into the night.'  
  
'I didn't run off into the night. Just inside. Besides, he was already this way before the kiss.'  
  
'Maybe he has his reasons. Look Harry, he is not that bad if you got to know him.'  
  
Silence.  
  
'Go and talk to him. There is no way you two will ever have a chance of getting along, if you decide to ignore what has happened. But before you go, you maybe should know why you did it...'_  
  
Good question, next one please. *Why*? Because he had felt like it? Because of the situation? Harry felt a tickling all over his body when he remembered the brief kiss - and the consequences. Him unable to concentrate on anything else but what had taken place, the faint yet constant longing and the pain by the cool arrogance mixed with the normal pinches of nastiness and rejection with which Snape responded to him.  
  
Why should he even care what Snape, who always treated him like some kind of parasite, would think of him? Just because he had seen last night a different side of him? Maybe because he had seen genuine worry, regret and fear in the other man's eyes? Or was it just because of a minute of weakness? No, there was more behind, Harry admitted reluctantly.  
  
He had been so lost in thoughts, that he hadn't paid any attention to his surroundings and so ran straight into a body in front of him. Startled, he looked up.  
  
"Hi Harry! Want some?" he was greeted.  
  
"No, thank you, George," Harry rejected the glass with the blood-red liquid. "I saw what happened to Neville."  
  
"Spoilsport."  
  
"I missed you too."  
  
"We certainly hope so," sounded a second voice from right behind him. He turned around and found himself face to face with Fred. Harry didn't know if it had been his talk with Ginny and her assurance that her family didn't blame him for Ron's death, if it was the easiness with which the twins met him, or if his mind was too occupied with other things, but his worries concerning the Weasley family had decreased considerably.  
  
"It's good to see you two. How is your shop going?"  
  
"It is not just a shop, it is Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."  
  
"How could I forget this? Shame on me!" Harry retorted with a shocked grimace.  
  
After a moment of mutual teasing, Harry took his leave, not without promising that he would sit with them during the celebration. 'Mum and dad would be offended if you wouldn't do so. Not to speak about Ginny and us!'  
  
The short meeting with Fred and George had been a relief for Harry, as it supported Ginny's statement, that her family had no bad feelings for him. And if it wouldn't have been for his last task before the celebration, he could almost have looked forward to it. But so he still had to find Snape, to talk to him *and* to survive it.

* * *

  
After a frustrating long search, Harry found himself in front of the West Tower and face to face with Snape. The other wizard regarded him with an odd look before he entered without having said one word. Harry's emotions were riding roller-coaster when he opened the door Snape had shut in his face. Anger, disappointment, fear, pain and frustration where battling within him for the upper hand.  
  
Harry found Snape in the cold Owlery at the top of the tower. He was busy with an owl which Harry recognised as the one who had pestered him so long until he had accepted the letter. "She is beautiful."  
  
"What do you want, Potter?" The voice was bare any emotion and caused Harry to wince ever so slightly. "Need to send a message?"  
  
"I ... I searched for you. I think we need to talk."  
  
"I wouldn't know about what." Snape had turned his back to Harry, so that he couldn't see the older wizard's face. Yet the new rejection was enough for Harry to close his eyes which had started to burn again.  
  
How Snape always managed to bring him to this point with just a few words, Harry didn't know. He just knew that he couldn't show Snape the effect he had on him; not yet and maybe never.  
  
Hesitantly, he stepped closer to the other man. "I wanted to thank you for the potion. It helped a lot." Unintelligible murmur which could have meant everything or nothing was the only answer. "And I wanted to apologise for ... last night. I shouldn't have done it," he added softly.  
  
"Damn right!" Harry couldn't recall having Snape ever heard using a word like *damn*. Shocked, he looked at the other man when he turned around and regarded him with a gaze that seemed to burn Harry from the inside out. He felt himself shaking and didn't know if he should dare to go closer or if he should take a step back; preferably many steps, out of the tower and to the sanctuary of the castle.  
  
Helplessly, he reached out with one hand as if to touch Snape. He never got that far. Snape grabbed his hand in mid-air and, as if he had touched something rotten, let it go at once. Harry didn't know what to think, feel or say. "Don't ever do that again," Snape hissed warningly. "I don't know what game you're playing, but you don't want me to participate. It would end very badly."  
  
Harry was completely stunned. Game? Did Snape really think ... "I don't play any games," he finally managed to press out.  
  
"No? What was it then? A late revenge?" Harry felt terrible cold. He didn't know what to say to his defence. His mind was blank. "Hm? Is it that? Payback?" The black, burning eyes were piercing him mercilessly, almost as if they were trying to strip him down until nothing of him would be left anymore.  
  
"It was nothing like that!" Harry finally managed to say with such a force, that some of the owls jumped up from their perches and started to flutter around.  
  
"What was it then?" Snape asked, emphasised every word. Slowly, he came closer, forcing Harry to back away until his retreat was stopped by a rough stone wall in his back. "Pity?"  
  
Snape was so close now, that Harry could see every fine line in the other man's face. The black eyes, encircled by dark rings which were sign for at least one, more likely more sleepless nights, seemed more vivid to him than anytime before. The lean body was so close to his own, that Harry really could feel the heat it radiated ... It was maddening and Harry wasn't sure if he could stand the situation much longer. He closed his eyes in a desperate, if completely useless attempt to dismiss the other wizard's presence.  
  
 _Just go away. Hold me. Forget that I've been here. Kiss me. Leave me alone. Let me feel safe._  
  
His eyes flew open as warm breath stroked his face like a soft caress. Snape's face was directly in front of his'. Harry wanted to reach out with his hands to touch him, to trace the lines life had left on him, to pull him even closer to kiss him, to run his hands through the hair that had felt so soft yesterday. He did nothing. "Why do you hate me so much?" His voice was barely more than a whisper.  
  
Snape shook his head. "Don't try to change the subject, Potter. You still haven't answered my question. I want to know which kind of game you're playing." To Harry's horror his eyes didn't just burn anymore, but he felt tears pricking in them. "Play with fire and you'll get burned, Potter. I advise you, and hopefully you'll listen for once, to stop this nonsense before *you* will get burned."  
  
Harry had enough. His anger won the upper hand and replaced the helplessness that had held him in its clutches. He pushed away the hands that had settled left and right from him on the wall and got some distance between him and Snape. " I'm not _playing_ with you," he almost shouted. "But I have enough of this! Whatever I do is wrong. I try to be friendly, it is --"  
  
"Do you kiss all people to show them how friendly you are?"  
  
"No, just if I feel something for them!" Harry said and in the same moment wished he hadn't.  
  
The eyes of the other man flashed with a dangerous darkness Harry hadn't seen before. "You don't know what you are talking about. You are out of your mind," Snape hissed under his breath before he turned around to take his leave.  
  
"On the contrary," Harry called after him, not caring for his breaking voice or the tears which finally had found a way to the surface," it's the first time in years that my mind is really clear. But tell me, who is running away now like a coward, you or me?"  
  
In a flash Snape was in front of him and pressed him against the wall. Harry was torn apart between longing and fear. "You will stop this immediately, Potter! You've no idea what you're talking about." The former won. Harry reached out and, before the other man had a chance to react, took hold onto his face and kissed him, passionately as if there wouldn't be a tomorrow anymore. For a short instant Snape seemed to yield. But maybe it was just the shock for in the next moment he had freed himself out of Harry's grasp and was out of the door without another word or even a last glance.  
  
Harry slid along the wall towards the floor. He buried his face into his hands and cried silent tears. A huge black-feathered owl fluttered down the perches, settled down on his shoulder and started to nibble at his ear as if trying to make up for the foolish behaviour of its owner.  
  
 **\--**


	4. A Sense of Peace

_'... and so let us celebrate together the event we have waited for for the last four years.'_  
  
Harry opened his eyes when loud applause sounded from everywhere at once in the Great Hall.  
  
"Oh, that was wonderful," Mrs. Weasley explained.  
  
"I don't know, he seemed a bit distracted," Arthur Weasley said, rummaging in the pockets of his green robe.  
  
"Maybe he was just nervous?" Harry heard Percy suggesting.  
  
"Most certainly. Molly, dear, have you seen my speech? I thought I put it in my pocket, but ...."  
  
George rolled his eyes. "Another speech, dad?"  
  
"We are starving," added Fred.  
  
"Your father is the Minister of Magic, of course he will make a speech," Mrs. Weasley chided the twins. The twinkling in her brown eyes took the harshness out of her words.  
  
"Molly, dear?" Arthur Weasley asked, a bit nervous.  
  
"Of course I have it. You forgot it on the table this morning. Here," she said just as Snape announced 'The Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley, without whose help Hogwarts would still be only a memory'. A new wave of applaud welled up when Mr. Weasley made his way through the Great Hall and stepped onto the platform where normally the High Table was located.  
  
A nervous smile appeared on his face. "Today is a very special day for all of us," he began, his voice loud and clear to hear for everybody. "A day we should spend in celebration but also in memory of those we have lost and especially those who have been sacrificed in a battle that was never meant to be theirs; our children." In the brief pause that followed these words it was absolutely silent in the Great Hall. Many people looked around with suddenly very glazed eyes and Mrs. Weasley's face had vanished behind a huge yellow handkerchief. Filch stroke Mrs. Norris almost furiously. Silent tears were running down Ginny's cheeks and Fred and George had taken a great interest in the scarlet tablecloth.  
  
Harry looked down from the ceiling, pushing his memories into the back of his mind, when he felt a warm hand on his arm, pressing it as if to give him comfort. He forced himself to smile at Hermione who watched him with red eyes. It was a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.  
  
"For what better way is there to keep their memory alive if not for the reason we gathered here today?" Mr. Weasley's voice trembled very slightly. "Together we can bring back Hogwarts to its old fame and glory, a school that produced some of the most famous wizards and witches in this world. I'm sure they wouldn't want us to drown in sorrow, but to learn from the past, to live in the present and to look forward into the future, as Albus Dumbledore told me once." He stopped and skipped through his notes. An anxious smile on his face, he finally looked up again. "And I think I'll forget the last part of my speech and simply raise my glass to all the people who made this day possible and to a wonderful future. Let us drink to it and celebrate!"  
  
The Hall broke into applause before everybody took his glass, stood up and raised it.  
  
"To the future."  
  
Fred and George were cheering at their father as he slowly made his way back to their table.  
  
"Er ... Thank you very much, Arthur," Snape said. "I think we all will agree with the Minister of Magic and ... yes ... the celebration is opened."  
  
Harry ignored the suddenly filled dishes and followed Snape with his eyes. The headmaster crossed the room, a tired smile on his lips for those who stopped him to shake his hand or to talk to him. Yet even these brief, tired smiles got to Harry. He felt jealousy welling up within him. The only things he ever had got from Snape was meanness, nasty smiles and, especially lately, for some unknown reason, his full aversion.  
  
Snape reached their table and their eyes met for just a brief moment. Harry didn't know if he should see the unemotional gaze as an improvement to their last meeting in the Owlery, or if this indifference was even worse.  
  
"Severus, why don't you sit down and have a drink with us?" Arthur Weasley said, pointing to an empty chair right across from Harry.  
  
"As much as I would like to, I am unable right now. Charles Wilther is waiting for me," Snape explained, looking over the tables to a tall man with dishevelled sandy hair in a light blue robe. "But I'll see you later. There are still a few things we need to talk about, Arthur."  
  
"Who is he?" Molly Weasley asked when Snape had taken his leave.  
  
"The Daily Prophet," Percy said.  
  
"Ah, the press. Never giving anybody a break." The disapproval in Mrs. Weasley's voice was plain.  
  
Harry could feel Hermione's worried gaze on him. Ever since she had come to the Owlery and found him in a less than happy state, she hadn't left his side. Harry thought that was her way of apologising to him since it had been her idea in the first place that he should talk to Snape. Yet, although Harry knew that she meant it well, he couldn't help but wish for a few moments of peace. The constant noise and the cheerfulness that surrounded them were getting to him.  
  
"Has one of you seen Bill?" Arthur Weasley asked. George and Fred looked at each other, knowingly. "Well?"  
  
"He met Fleur on his way to the Hall and has been missing in action since then."  
  
"Fleur?"  
  
"Just the girl from this school in France," George said.  
  
"Beauxbatons," Hermione explained, rolling her eyes.  
  
"Whatever," George said. "But I don't think we'll see him again today."  
  
"Harry, dear. Are you not well? You look pale and you haven't even touched the food yet." Mrs. Weasley eyed him worriedly.  
  
Harry forced a smile on his lips. "I'm fine. Just not very hungry." An understatement. Harry felt nauseated just thinking about eating. His headache had become so intense that he felt as if his head would burst at any moment. And once more he asked himself, why he had not only opened the damned letter but also followed the invitation. While it certainly was a relief that really none of the Weasley family blamed him for what had taken place (on the contrary, Mrs. Weasley had started almost immediately to act as if she were his mother - a very nice feeling), he felt as if he was in hell.  
  
Nightmares, memories and Snape. Not a very good combination for an enjoyable stay anywhere. Harry swallowed a groan and looked around the hall. At least it couldn't get any worse than that. That was a solace, if only a very small one.  
  
"How long will you stay?"  
  
"I'm not sure, but until tomorrow, I think." Certainly not one minute longer than it is necessary, Harry added silently, watching Snape and the reporter out of the corner of his eyes.  
  
"But this time you won't vanish again so completely, will you?"  


* * *

  
Harry hurried away from the Great Hall, not really caring where his way would lead him. Everything was fine as long as it was far away from the celebration. When he couldn't hear anymore the loud conversions, the laughing, the joy, he finally slowed down and looked around. His steps had led him into a long, narrow stone corridor that was lit by only a few torches on the otherwise bare walls. There was none of the things that normally decorated Hogwarts. No armours, no pictures, nor portraits, no weapons, not even a window or a door as far as he could see. Simply nothing. Yet the absence of these things wasn't disturbing or alarming. In the contrary, to Harry at least, it had a very calming effect.  
  
And although Harry was absolutely sure that he hadn't been there before it seemed strangely familiar; almost as if he should know it. Driven by an urge he couldn't explain to himself, he followed the path that seemed to slope downwards. When he turned around again, the main passage that had brought him here had vanished out of his view. Around a corner he encountered the first - and if he could trust his eyes in the half dark that surrounded him - only door. It had neither a lock nor a handle. Curiously, he stepped closer and tried to push it open. In vain. The heavy looking wooden door didn't move. He draw his wand, the only implement of his past he had brought with him, and tapped it against the door. Violet sparkles were the only visible sign that his father's wand was even working.  
  
"Alohomora!" he said. For a short moment nothing happened. Harry, not willing to give up so fast, raised his wand again. But before he could perform another spell, somebody or maybe better something, for it came right from the door, begun to yell:  
  
*Intruder! Intruder!*  
  
Harry jumped back in surprise. A shouting door was something he hadn't encountered yet in Hogwarts. "It's all right. I won't do it again," Harry tried to undo the damage he had done. The door continued its shouting, and Harry suddenly remembered a saying that was something like: Sometimes retreat is the best defence. And there couldn't be a better time to test it than now. Harry didn't really want to find out what Snape would say if he found Harry anywhere near the door or the corridor.  
  
And so, without further hesitation, he went into the opposite direction from where he had come - the passage further down.  
  
It was a very long corridor that more and more resembled a passage in a cave then anything else. In the dim light of only a very few lit torches, he could see that, somewhere between the closed door and the last corner, the thick dark red carpet had vanished. It also had become colder, yet not so cold that he was freezing.  
  
Harry wondered briefly why someone would bother to illuminate such a deserted corridor. A thought that was forgotten when he reached the end of a long, rough staircase and was confronted with an imposing view.  
  
With bated breath, Harry looked around the large stone hall at which entry he stood. Along the walls were hundreds, if not even more torches, which gave the whole atmosphere something very special. Stunned, Harry went further into the cave. The stony ground was covered with fine sand. Stalagmites reached from the floor up as if trying to get in contact with the stalactites that decorated the ceiling. In the middle of the hall was a lake that stretched almost from the left side to the right, leaving only a small path on each flank to pass it.  
  
Carefully, as if afraid to do something that would destroy the special peace of this place, Harry stepped to the shore of the lake. The feeling that he should know this place didn't lessen. Somewhere he had seen it before. His eyes wandered around while his mind was busy to find the answer to this question. When his gaze fell onto a small island in the lake, he knew.  
  
 _'Listen to your dreams. They can tell you more than it may seem at first. I myself had countless foretelling dreams ...'_  
  
Professor Trelawney had told this somewhere in the fifth year, Harry remembered faintly. Could it be that this was one of the times that she had been right? Was that the reason that he'd felt the urge to follow the corridor? Harry shook his head. Whatever it was, it didn't really matter. He was far too tired to think about anything right now. For the moment he just wanted to enjoy what he had found, wanted to dwell in the peace this place offered.  
  
Something small and white flew past him only to vanish again. Harry looked up. His eyes stuck at the ceiling, specifically at the star-shaped hole carved into it. It was large enough to not only give view onto the moon and the stars, but also to let in the snow that had begun to fall. It was a magnificent sight.  
  
Harry sat down on a protruding rock from which he had a good view onto the ceiling. To hell with his memories, his dreams, his past, his life and everybody else - including Snape. Down here nothing of it seemed to matter anymore. To Harry it felt as if he'd entered an alien world where nobody cared about who he was or what he'd done. It almost felt as if he --  
  
"You, Potter!" a voice echoed through the halls, causing Harry to jump up in shock. Instinctively, he grabbed his wand and turned around, pointing it at the one who'd dared to obtrude the peace he'd just found.  
  
"Snape!" His voice was no more but a husky hiss yet it rebounded no less than the other man's before.  
  
"I should have known that it was you who triggered the alarm spell of my private quarter. After all you already broke into my office."  
  
Harry took a deep breath to not only still his racing heart by the sudden shook of Snape's unexpected appearance, but also to get control over a new wave of anger that threatened to well up within him by Snape's accusation. By a completely unjust accusation nevertheless. Harry steeled himself for yet another confrontation he could have done very well without. He would have been just too happy if Snape would have let him have his peace until his departure. But that of course, would have been too much to ask for. After all he stood still on his feet.  
  
Harry's eyes glittered with suppressed anger when he spoke, "First, I never broke into your office. Believe it or not, but there are more interesting things than bizarre creatures in jars. Second, until just a few moments ago, when you told me so, I didn't even know where your quarter was. It is not that you've a nameplate on your door. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll return to the celebration."  
  
"That's were I thought you would be. So what are you doing down here?" Snape's gaze had become very shifty.  
  
"I didn't know it was forbidden to retreat for some time," Harry said softly. "Maybe you should have announced it before that we were just allowed to stay in the hall. Or is it maybe just me? If so, what will you do now? Give me detention? Let me think. What could it be this time?"  
  
"You should keep your mouth shut, Potter."  
  
Harry had gone too far to stop now. He was offended, angry and hurt. His chest felt so tight that he didn't know how he still managed to breathe. "Maybe you could insult me a bit more? How about: You're a coward. Or, you're out of your mind? Or --"  
  
"Potter." The voice held a clear warning now.  
  
"-- Or maybe ... no wait, that is even better. You could bring up things that happened in the past? Most preferable of course, things I've never done. That is always a good one."  
  
"Shut up now!"  
  
Harry ignored him. "But of course, we can also simply return to the schedule and you could pick on a fame I never wanted. Or, and this one is the best of all and will never miss its target, I guarantee you that, you could pick on my family. "  
  
"Stop it, Harry! That is enough."  
  
"Oh, is it Harry now? Just this afternoon, before you decided to ignore me completely of course, I was just the 'out-of-his-mind-Potter' to you. And tell me, why should I stop? Isn't that what you've always been doing? Hating me and picking on me for no good reason except for who I am?"  
  
There was absolute silence in the cave when Harry stopped to regain his breath. Frustrating helplessness took hold of him when he watched the older wizard standing in the entry, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Snape was like a statue. Only his robe moved slightly in a soft draught. His black eyes, which were fixed on Harry, glittered in the light of the torches. Harry was powerless in the storm of the emotions the other wizard awoke within him with his mere presence. Ignoring him was just as impossible as to hate or to approach him. Harry knew that he couldn't stand much more of this. It was tearing him apart. He shook his head in resignation and sat down again on the rock, his back turned to Snape. "Since we seem to be unable to have a decent talk with each other, why don't you just leave me alone?"  
  
"Do you think it's that easy?"  
  
"It's never easy." Harry closed his eyes. "But I'd hoped that we've come to a kind of understanding during the ... the time we worked together. Obviously I was wrong." He stood up again and took the small path around the lake in the attempt to get a bit more distance between himself and the other man so that he could regain control over his emotions.  
  
It was useless.  
  
The battle that had started within him yesterday evening when he'd made the fatal mistake of losing himself in something that was never meant to be, which never could be considering their history, didn't stop. How could that have happened to him, Harry wondered. Why of all people did he have to fall for the man whose highest goal it was to make Harry's life as unbearable as possible? _Not always_ , a low voice reminded him of the few times he'd got to see a different side of the man across the lake. Snape helping him after the fall of Hogwarts; Snape keeping him silently company when he, once more, had been close to a break down; his worries when it came to the final battle; the other wizard's unexpected openness, his obvious worry, but also his bewilderment yesterday along with other emotions Harry couldn't understand yet.  
  
A closed book. That was what Snape was to Harry. Whenever he thought he'd something figured out, Snape did something so unexpected, that Harry had to start all over again.  
  
Angrily (though for what or with whom *really*, he couldn't say), Harry kicked furiously with his right foot against the stonewall. He was unable to swallow his outcry brought on by a sudden, sickening noise. It sounded like the breaking of a dry branch. Blinding pain spread in no time from his foot through his entire body. "Oh no," he pressed out between clenched teeth before he let himself fall onto the ground, no longer able to support himself on his broken foot. That was a feeling he remembered only too well. Though, the last time it had been his arm. The perfect ending of a nightmarish day. It became difficult to concentrate on anything through the waves of pain that flooded through his body. "Harry!" The voice sounded from very far away. Harry could feel how his consciousness was slowly slipping away. A very welcome feeling. He closed his eyes to embrace the dark. Yet there was this voice that wouldn't let him and somehow Harry couldn't ignore it. With an immense effort of willpower, he turned away from the abyss of darkness and towards the source of the voice. He opened his eyes again.  
  
Snape was kneeling beside Harry, trying to get off his shoe, all the time talking to him. A pained groan escaped Harry, causing Snape to raise his wand to let the shoe simply vanish. Harry's foot was a sight to behold. It laid in a very strange angle and was three times thicker than it was normally. Carefully, Snape felt the foot and tried to move it. Harry moaned miserably. Finally, Snape was finished and turned his attention to a very pale Harry who had trouble holding on to consciousness. "It is broken. We've two possibilities, either we get you to the hospital wing or I can fix it." Upon hearing the latter suggestion, Harry's eyes flew open. "I assure you, I'm not as incompetent as Lockhart," Snape stated dryly as if he'd read Harry's mind. Harry forced himself to smile and nodded just before a new wave of pain hit him, causing him to groan.  
  
"Ossis sanare!" Snape said.  
  
As soon as the words were spoken, a strange sensation spread through Harry's foot. It was a stitching, followed by the not too pleasant sound of bones grinding as they joined together again. As fast as it had begun, it was over. The pain had vanished and Harry's foot had shrunken to its original seize. He winkled his toes carefully. Not only did his bones seem to be where they were supposed to be - a wonderful relief - but it also didn't hurt anymore. Snape, who's hand had settled on his ankle, watched him expectantly.  
  
"That feels very nice," Harry said, not sure himself if he referred to his healed foot or to the almost casual touch. "And even my bones are still there. Thank you," he said, thanking the older wizard rather awkwardly.  
  
"I told you that I'm not as inept as a wizard as Lockhart."  
  
"Oh, that was one of the things I never doubted," Harry stated in a rather rough voice which was not only the result of the intensive gaze with which the other man observed him, but also due to the hand that still laid on his bare skin where it radiated a warmth on the border to heat which expanded over his whole body - a sensation that was as wonderful as it was irritating.  
  
Harry sighed.  
  
"What?" Snape's eyes had narrowed slightly.  
  
Harry smiled faintly. "I just thought that this was the perfect ending for this day." Snape only watched him, waiting for him to continue. "You know these days when you wake up in the morning and already know that you should rather stay in bed before something bad happens? Well, I think I've hit the jackpot this month. And I think it would be for the best if I go back now," he added hastily, like a man who knew that everything he could say would make the situation only worse.  
  
Snape released his hold and both came to their feet. "I'll be out of your way before tomorrow noontime," Harry said before he turned around to take his leave, not giving Snape a chance to react to his statement. But before he reached the stairs he hesitated. His features had taken on a thoughtful expression as he searched for the right words. "You've been right in many things, but you were wrong in one case. It is true, I ignored the letters and I ran away like a coward instead of facing my demons. Maybe it was wrong. Maybe I would feel better if I'd stayed here, that is something I will never know ... but, and it is on you to believe it or not, I didn't play any games with you ... what I did was neither for revenge nor for something else. I meant what I said this afternoon."  
  
Harry turned around upon having spoken those last words to face the other man; whether in the attempt to convince him from the truthfulness of his words or to get a last good look of what he would lose again so very soon he didn't know. Absently, he lifted a hand to push away a strand of black hair that had fallen over his glasses and obstructed his view. Snape stood only a few steps away from him. His black eyes stared at Harry with an intensity that, in a different situation, would have surprised him with their depth and their many, mixed and so unreadable emotions. There had been a time when he'd thought them only cold and empty, the last days had taught him better. But then again, there had been a time when he'd hated the other man with all he had, when he'd thought only the worst of him. These days of course were long passed, yet Harry wondered if it was so much better now. Then at least he had known where he stood with Snape. Not so now.  
  
Harry smiled ruefully. "There are many things I regret, things that I most certainly would do differently if given another chance, but this isn't among them. I just regret that I needed so long to understand the obvious. And now I'll better shut up before I can do any more damage, " Harry ended hastily when he became aware of the fact, that he'd told Snape more than he'd ever intended. "I ... I'll go now. Oh yes, and sorry about your quarters, I really didn't know you live there." And with those last words Harry all but ran up the stairs, cursing himself silently for another moment of weakness, for making himself so vulnerable and so presenting Snape with yet another chance to hurt him if he should wish to do so. That his surroundings blurred suddenly didn't help much to lift his mood, the same for the sound of fast approaching footsteps behind him.  
  
"Potter!" Harry froze in his motion.  


_Welcome to 'Your Own Personal Hell' or 'How to make my life even worse'.  
Our today topic will be:_

_Lay bare your most inner self so that your opponent will have an even easier game with you._

  
  
He had been so damned stupid! His worst mistake so far hadn't been to come here, but to allow himself to be drawn towards the other man and to act on this impulse. Not only once but far too often. Had he really hoped that Snape would understand him, maybe even return some of the feelings? Harry could feel a hysterical laughter welling up within him. With an immense effort of willpower he suppressed it, so that all that came out was a strangled tone, which sounded, much to his dismay, like a whimper. That was when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Harry went rigid.  
  
What now? Another round of 'You're out of your mind, Potter!'? Other insults? Harry's mind was in such turmoil that he couldn't think of what else Snape could have in store for him. The place on his shoulder where Snape was touching him seemed to burn - yet if it was for discomfort or pleasure, Harry didn't know. Some time during the last twenty-four hours the feelings seemed to have become of one and the same meaning.  
  
Harry swallowed hard before he followed the urge of the hand and turned around. He was prepared for everything. Or so he thought, for never, not even in his strangest dreams, he had expected what was happening next. The hand had left his shoulder and was now suddenly on his face, stroking his cheek, wiping away tears Harry hadn't even been aware of. The older wizard's features were bare of their usual sneer or coldness, but hold an expression that in itself could be very alarming; the face radiated hope, wonder and ... fright. The latter even more astonishing than the first two for Harry had no idea why.  
  
"You shouldn't have done it, Harry," Snape was whispering brokenly, "We shouldn't do it. For both of our sakes. It is a mistake. " Snape's hands framed his face before soft lips pressed on his'.  
  
And Harry was lost.  
  
A long hidden desire awoke within him. His hands reached out for the other wizard until they rested on Snape's neck, pulling him so close that he could feel the other man's rapid heartbeat as if it was his own. Every fibre in his body was on fire when their lips met. Not softly like the previous night, but ravishing; like two persons whose life depended on it. Rational thoughts were impossible under the onrush of an all-consuming passion, which Harry hadn't felt before, not with Cho and certainly not later.  
  
Soaring heat  
  
Lust  
  
Desire  
  
Need  
  
Almost too much, yet not enough. His hand moved to the other man's head, stroking through the black hair while at the same time holding him in place.  
  
 _Don't stop. Not now, not ever._  
  
A whimper escaped him when Snape tried to pull back. Very reluctantly, Harry allowed the separation, permitting them to regain their breath. Burning black eyes, filled with desire, fear and shame bored into his as if trying to read his soul. Harry reached out with trembling fingers, tracing the other wizard's features.  
  
"It's not a game." His voice was so soft that he didn't know if the other man had heard him. Snape closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall in the narrow staircase. "It never was."  
  
"It is a mistake." The words came out strangled.  
  
"No!" Harry almost shouted, his whole body trembling with emotions. "How can this be wrong?" he asked, leaning towards the other man, closing the small space Snape had put between them, covering the pale face with light kisses.  
  
" _We_ will get burned if we don't stop." Severus had opened his eyes again and watched him now, almost imploringly.  
  
Harry's laugh sounded strangely cracked. "I'm willing to take the risk, if you are."  
  
 _Don't push me away; don't reject me again!_  
  
His lips and hands seemed to have developed a life on their own; caressing every accessible part of the body in front of him. "I want you."  
  
"Now, but what about later?" Snape's hands moved helplessly in the air and for a moment Harry feared that he would be pushed way.  
  
"I told you it is not a game."  
  
Hands were now running down his neck, his back. "So you keep saying." The words didn't sound as if Snape was convinced. Not at all. Harry arched into the touch, longing for more.  
  
"And I mean it."  
  
 _Just accept it!  
  
Believe me!_  
  
Did his silent plea radiate in his eyes? In his voice? Maybe he had spoken out aloud? Harry neither knew nor cared, couldn't for in the next moment he felt himself pulled against the other man's body.  
  
Fingers tangled in his hair. Severus bent his head and his mouth ran over Harry's bared neck causing the younger wizard to gasp for pleasure. He felt himself being pushed away until his back hit the stonewall. Harry didn't complain for as soon as there was a bit space between them, sure hands were stroking over his shirt, before they pulled it up, impatiently. Harry closed his eyes and groaned as cool air blew across his inflamed skin.  
  
He opened his eyes and reached out for the other man, needing to feel him as close as possible; preferably without the layer of clothes that still separated them. With trembling fingers he tried to unfasten Snape's black robe; fruitlessly. Finally he gave up and fished for his wand. Compared to his next task very easy. Waving his wand in the small space *and* to concentrate on what he wanted to achieve was more difficult, especially with Severus' hands caressing his upper-body, and he needed at least three attempts before Snape's robe had finally vanished. Satisfied, Harry smiled at the older wizard who'd closed his eyes and groaned softly.  
  
For a moment Harry allowed himself the luxury just to observe the other man. Lean and muscular (something Snape's robe had very well hidden before), pale skin gleaming in the soft light of the few torches - and far too tempting to be just watched, Harry decided when a new wave of desire flooded through him. Unable to resist any longer, he reached out to explore and caress the other wizard's body, memorised every inch of the bare skin with hands and mouth.  
  
Yet it wasn't enough and Harry wondered briefly if it ever could be. His hunger for the older wizard seemed insatiable. The more he got, the more he wanted.  
  
He couldn't repress a groan as he suddenly felt a tongue sliding along the delicate curve of his neck while hands moved rapidly up and down his body, caressing every inch they could reach. His breath turned to shallow gasps as a hard cock pressed against his own painfully erect shaft. Instinctively, he arched into the contact, rubbing against Severus' body; wanting, no, *needing* more.  
  
The touch of Snape's hands on his skin felt like burning ice; soothing and inflaming at the same time. Lips met, delving each other's mouth. Harry felt drunk by the taste of the older wizard's body. It was as if they expressed through body language what they couldn't say with words as they explored each other ravenously. Touches and caresses spoke over pain, loneliness, misunderstandings, fears, doubts and loses before they swept away everything, except the reality of the moment; their mutual desire and lust. For a moment the past became unimportant and the demons vanished into the background where they melted with the shadows of his subconscious as a hand wound around their erections, stroking both of them in unison, driving Harry higher and higher the spiral of lust and passion that had built up during the last hours until nothing but themselves existed anymore.  
  
The convulsions of the hand and his lover's hard shaft against his erection were too much for Harry and he came, Severus' name on his lips, unaware that the other wizard followed him only a short moment later.  


* * *

  
Sunlight penetrated the room, and slipped behind his closed eyelids, waking him. His hand stretched out, reaching for his lover. In vain. The space beside him was cold. Harry's eyes flew open, seeing what his befuddled mind had already comprehended: he was alone. No sign of Severus.  
  
With some effort he moved in a sitting position and looked around the spacious bedroom. At the wall right from the door was a huge bookshelf that was overflowing with books of the most different seizes and appearances. The desk near the window was occupied with papers, books and candles, which by now were all burned down. A low fire was burning in the fireplace under a small cauldron. Dark red curtains covered the window almost completely, leaving only a small opening for the sun that shone directly onto the bed. King size, Harry saw. Very nice if you wanted to do more than just sleeping.  
  
Harry smiled as he moved his pleasantly sore body from the bed and stepped onto soft carpet that matched the colour of the drapes. Putting on his glasses but not bothering with clothes, he went through the tidy room over to the window and opened the heavy curtains. The view that greeted him was fantastic. Far below him, under the precipitous cliffs, was the frozen sea whose sheet of ice gleamed in the sun like small diamonds. The fresh snow that covered the shore and the trees and bushes that surrounded it radiated the sun so strong that it almost hurt to look at it. Harry had seen the sea from many different perspectives through his school years, but he doubted, that it had ever looked so ... peaceful. Yes, that was the right word to describe the image below him. It was as if nothing --  
  
His musings were interrupted as the door behind him opened. Slowly, Harry turned around. A light smile played around his lips as his eyes fell onto the imposing, black clothed figure of his former teacher.  
  
For a moment they just watched each other before Severus, almost hesitatingly, entered.  
  
"You should get dressed," the older wizard said curtly, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between them.  
  
Harry couldn't help but stare at his lover open mouthed as Snape went over to the fireplace, waving his wand over the cauldron. That was not exactly the reaction Harry had expected after last night ...  
  
"I ...," Harry begun, but stopped again when he couldn't think of something to say that would make sense *and* ease the tension of the situation. "How late is it?"  
  
Ridiculous and stupid! Harry cursed himself silently when Severus turned around and regarded him with a strange, cold stare.  
  
"Almost ten." The voice was as indifferent as the gaze, causing Harry to wince involuntarily. This was so wrong! "I guess, you have to take your leave soon?"  
  
Harry forced himself not to break the eye contact. "Actually, ... no. I'm on vacation." Slowly, he stepped closer to the older wizard. He wouldn't allow Snape to return to their daily schedule of nastiness or worse, disregard. Not after what he had seen and experienced last night.  
  
His feelings, the attraction he had felt towards Snape hadn't vanished, not even diminished, but, if possible, had become even stronger. Even now he could feel the hands of the other wizard on his skin, burning him with their touches. Their bodies pressed together, arms and legs entwined in an unbreakable embrace. Delicious kisses which varied from light touches to demanding meetings of their lips, teeth scraping over his skin, fervent words and moans ...  
  
Harry shook his head. No, he couldn't allow Severus to simply ignore what they've shared. Not now that he had just found it. And no sneer, no indifferent gaze or mockery could change his mind.  
  
" ... Mr. Potter."  
  
The unaffected voice was enough to drive anybody spare up the wall, and Harry was no exception. "Harry."  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
"It is Harry. I thought we had established that last night, _Severus_."  
  
He didn't give the other wizard a chance to answer but framed his face and pulled him into a deep, thoroughly kiss that left them both breathless when they finally separated again.  
  
"You were saying?" Harry asked after he had regained his breath.  
  
Harry had to smile by the plain effort it took his lover to return to the here and now. "I was saying that you certainly have something important to do during your vacation, Mr. P - Harry..."  
  
"Actually, I do. Yes," Harry purred, pressing himself against the other man. The soft gasp that escaped Severus as he gently pinched a nipple through the layer of black robe was music to his ears.  
  
That was definitely better.  
  
"I missed you when I woke up..." He could feel his lover trembling ever so slightly as he let his hand wander further down, caressing his crotch with light touches.  
  
"Some of us have a job to fulfill. No matter how enjoyable the night was."  
  
"Just enjoyable? Seems I have to do better next time..." Harry breathed into Severus' ear, his tongue flicking out, barely touching the earlobe as he pushed the unresisting body slowly onto the bed.  
  
 **\--**


	5. Epilogue

(four months later)  
  
He looked around the small, almost empty flat without really seeing anything. His mind was occupied with other things; like his immediate future.  
  
When he had made his decision to go to the reopening of Hogwarts he had expected much, but never this turn of events. What had started as a trip in his own nightmares had turned out as one of the best things that could have happened to him.  
  
Of course, the events had not caused his pain to dissolve into thin air all of a sudden - in the contrary -, but now that he had been forced to confront the demons of his past, now that the wounds lay open, it was easier to endure - as strange as it sounded. For the first time in years, he didn't feel like being torn apart if he would allow the memories of the past onto the surface. He felt not only ready to face the world again, but truly alive.  
  
Harry almost laughed at the irony that he, at the place where he had seen and experienced so much pain, a world he had left so that he wouldn't lose his sanity, should find his peace again. And even more ironically, that he should find it in the arms of the teacher he disliked most during his school years. Well, for the first four and a half years at least, until he had accepted that Snape was indeed an ally and not one of the bad guys.  
  
Harry shook his head as he pondered the most surprising turn of events that had prolonged his planned two day stay to almost two weeks.  
  
What in the beginning had looked like an aggravated continuation of what had taken place between them during his time in school had changed to something completely different. Something wonderful and strange, something that he couldn't describe with words.  
  
It was not love, but something different, something more intense... It was as if the horrible past had provided them with a basis that allowed them to understand each other better than anybody else could. It was as if a bond had formed from the first rays of attraction (which had hit Harry out of nowhere) that allowed them to understand, accept and find comfort in each other.  
  
His eyes darted around the almost empty bedroom, which held next to no personal things anymore and came to hold onto some light brown scrolls on a chest of drawers. Harry grabbed them and let himself fall down onto his bed. With a smile he opened the first one, a letter from the ministry, to which a more personal note was attached.  
  
Well, personal in a Snapeish way at least, which certainly didn't include burning love letters. And this was perfectly fine with Harry. He didn't really know (now at least) how he would deal with something more personal than an update on the life in Hogwarts, how everybody was doing and when he was expected to show up in Hogwarts, to discuss his work schedule and to settle in.  
  
Work schedule! Harry still couldn't really believe it. Four months ago he had been stuck in some advertising agency, merely existing from day to day, and in less than a week he would return to Hogwarts and take up his new job as the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher.  
  
Nobody had given any indication during his frequent visits to Hogwarts throughout the last months that something like that might happen; not Ginny, not Hermione, and certainly not Severus. So it had come as a complete surprise, when an impressive, if unknown owl had arrived one night, delivering a scroll that had carried the official Ministry of Magic seal.  
  
Rather stunned, Harry had accepted the message and, still wondering what it could be this time, had opened the seal, unrolled the parchment and had skipped over the message.  
  
**  
  
 _Dear Mr. Potter,_  
  
we invite you on the 17th March to an interview for the job as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor in Hogwarts to the beginning of the new term.  
  
Please let us now ASAP if you are interested.  
  
Yours sincerely,  
  
Arthur Weasley  
(Minister of Magic)  
  
**  
  
Harry had had to read it two more times, before he had really grasped its meaning.  
  
From there on everything had gone in a blur. He hadn't even thought twice as he had sat down to write his answer. Two weeks later he had found himself in the impressive building of the Ministry in the middle of London, ready to face the committee, that would test his abilities.  
  
Harry smiled as he remembered the gleam in his lover's eyes, when he had opened the door to Arthur Weasley's office. It was a gaze that he had come to recognise as one of approval and joy, one that could reduce him to a puddle if Severus wished so - which he had used later to his advantage, Harry recalled their own private celebration later that day.  
  
A few days later, he had left Hogwarts to return for a last time into his 'old' life. He had given notice to his employer and prepared everything. Not that he had had much to do - the advantage of living in solitude.  
  
Now all that was left was waiting. Maybe the worst part. For while he was sure that he had made the right decision, he couldn't deny that he was worried. He wasn't entirely sure if he could cope with what was expected of him. Could he really go back for good where his nightmare had started? Was he even capable of teaching a bunch of kids? And what consequences would it have for his relationship with Severus?  
  
His pondering was interrupted by a sudden loud noise out of his living room. Harry jumped up from his bed and, wand ready out of instinct, went to find out what it was.  
  
Only with an extreme effort of willpower, he could keep himself from laughing.  
  
Snape had landed onto the ground in front of the fireplace and was just getting into a standing position again. With a rather gloomy look, he wiped the soot out of his face as best as he could and muttered something Harry didn't understand.  
  
He cleared his throat to get his lover's attention. "Floo powder?"  
  
Snape turned around and greeted him with a glare. "No, it is my favourite past time activity to dig into fireplaces all around London! What do you think?"  
  
Harry couldn't suppress a grin. "I think that's why most people prefer to apparate."  
  
For a short moment they just watched each other silently (well, he watched and Severus glared), before Harry put his wand away and stepped forward to greet his lover with a brief kiss.  
  
"Hi!"  
  
Snape looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Sure. Just a bit surprised to see you..."  
  
His lover stiffened slightly. "If my presence is inappropriate, I should take my leave."  
  
Dumbfounded, Harry watched him for a moment before awareness set in. "No! I don't want you to go. I'm happy to see you. I'm just surprised. Positively, of course. And now I better shut up before --"  
  
"That sounds like a good idea," Severus stated dryly. Before Harry could blink, he felt a hand in his hair that pulled him towards in a kiss. The possessive force behind it left Harry strangely light headed.  
  
There was no doubt anymore in his mind when his lover finally released him and burning black eyes locked with his', watching him hungrily, like a predator observing his prey before striking.  
  
He had made the right decision.  
  
Everything would work out eventually, he was now sure about it.  
  
 **\--END --**


End file.
